Complications
by Deb3
Summary: 15th in the Fearful Symmetry series: As Horatio and Calleigh await Rosalind's birth, Stewart Otis escapes again, and this time, he's out for revenge.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Complications. Note: This story has been in the works and titled for months, well before TPTB aired their season 2 episode Complications or any spoilers about it. I am not stealing their title. However, I absolutely cannot change the title of a story once I start thinking of it by that name. So here is Complications, my version.  
  
Rating: PG-13.  
  
Series Recap: This is the 15th story in the Fearful Symmetry series. Fearful Symmetry, Can't Fight This Feeling, Gold Medals, Surprises, Honeymoon, Blackout, the Hopes and Fears, Anniversary, Framed, Sight for Sore Eyes, Trials and Tribbulations, Premonition, Do No Harm, the CSI Who Loved Me, and Complications. All archived at fanfiction.net and Lonely Road.  
  
Personal Writing Creed: I will never in my life, under any circumstances, write a story that does not have a happy ending. Hang onto that promise as you travel through this one, because I'm about to put all of the team but especially my two favorites through hell. Sorry, characters, I have no control over the plots. This one just came this way. But the unconditional happy ending guarantee, as always, applies.  
  
A/N: I must warn you about this story in advance. It is completely one- paced, and the pace is a full gallop. From the opening scene until the end, there is no time to catch your breath. Normally, I have angst interspersed with short fluff breaks, back and forth, but on this one, the plot never lets up. It's not a short story, either. So let's just take the "you can't leave it there" comment as assumed. To stop this story anywhere at all before the end would constitute a cliffhanger, so there will be cliffhangers. I can't possibly avoid them. If you'd rather not have them, wait until the whole thing is written down and read it at one gulp. The happy ending is there, but the story does take you on one wild ride on the way. Fasten your emotional seatbelts, keep your hands inside the car, and please remain seated at all times. Off we go.  
  
***  
  
"My nearest and dearest enemy."  
  
William Shakespeare, Henry IV Part I  
  
***  
  
The doctor frowned in medical disapproval and studied the chart. "Your blood pressure is up some. Not to a stage where we'd need to treat it, but definitely running a bit higher than before. That's a common complication in pregnancy, but it can be dangerous if it gets too high."  
  
"I've had this ringing in my ears at times the last few days," said Calleigh. "Not really loud enough to be annoying, just there in the background. Would the blood pressure cause that?"  
  
"Yes." The doctor flipped back to the face sheet on the chart. "You've got five more days. We could induce labor at this point, but I don't really think it's necessary yet. You haven't had any signs of this until today's appointment, so it could just be your body's reaction to the approaching birth. And it isn't dangerously high, like I said. It bears watching, though. I want you to go home and rest. Have you still been working?"  
  
"Yes, but only in the lab now, not going out on scenes. I wanted to keep working as long as I could."  
  
"I believe we've hit that point," Horatio put in firmly.  
  
"We have indeed," said the doctor. "I want you at home, preferably in bed, and doing nothing at all for the time being. And keep track of that ringing in your ears. It's a good thing you're aware of it, really. Not everyone gets that symptom. It will let you monitor it yourself to some extent. If the ringing starts getting louder, or if you develop a headache or dizziness, go to the hospital."  
  
"I will," Calleigh promised. This was too important to get stubborn about. "Is the baby all right?"  
  
"Seems fine to me. It could be any time now. Be ready for it."  
  
"I am, believe me," Calleigh replied in a heartfelt tone. The doctor gave her a sympathetic smile, and Horatio gave her a sympathetic squeeze on the arm.  
  
"I think everything will turn out fine," said the doctor. "You've had a very easy pregnancy so far, and there's no family history of difficult deliveries. But you do need to rest. Stay off your feet and take it easy."  
  
"I will," Calleigh said again. Horatio looked far more worried than the doctor did. She smiled at him reassuringly.  
  
"That's it for today, then. Give me a call when contractions start, or if you start feeling odd or like your blood pressure is getting any higher." The doctor looked at his watch. "I apologize again for being so late." He had been at the hospital performing an emergency cesarean section, and the office patients had been given the option of either waiting or rescheduling. Horatio and Calleigh had waited, but the doctor was three hours late. It was almost 7:00 PM.  
  
"No problem," Horatio assured him. "Just be there for us when it's our turn."  
  
"I will," the doctor replied. "Take it easy, Calleigh, and I hope to be seeing you over at the hospital before too much longer."  
  
They left the obstetrician's office and took the elevator down to the lobby. The medical building was practically deserted, most of the offices having closed at 5:00. "Five more days," Calleigh said longingly. "Maybe she'll take after her father and be early."  
  
Horatio smiled at her, rubbing one hand sympathetically along her back, but his voice was jesting. "Don't hurry yourself, but just remember, Calleigh, you're keeping me waiting."  
  
"Horatio Caine, I'll get you for that remark. Eventually, when I feel like throwing something at you, maybe in six months or so. Believe me, I'm as eager to end this as you are."  
  
They arrived at the lobby, and he led her to a bench by the door. "Why don't you sit here and wait for me? I'll go get the car out of the parking garage and bring it around. No need for you to walk all that way."  
  
Calleigh sank down gratefully on the bench. "Thank you, Horatio. Door-to- door service."  
  
"Only the best for you," he replied gallantly. "Back in a minute." He headed out the glass doors, and Calleigh sat there just doing nothing. That option was more and more attractive these days. She felt like a whale, and she had never realized how much her feet and back could ache. Horatio had been understanding of her desire to keep working, but he had gradually cut down the cases assigned to her, restricted her to the lab, and limited her hours until she was only part-time. It was a compromise that they had mutually agreed to without discussion. It was even harder to overcome inertia the last week or two, though, and for once, Calleigh was looking forward to staying home from work. Resting this week sounded wonderful. Resting and anticipating. She ran one hand across the full moon of her stomach, and Rosalind stirred. Her child. Horatio's child. She couldn't wait to see him hold his daughter.  
  
Thinking of Horatio made her realize abruptly how long he had been gone. She frowned slightly and glanced at her watch. 15 minutes. It shouldn't take him 15 minutes to get the car, should it? Especially with the parking garage practically deserted, like the lobby was deserted. Almost all other patients and most of the office workers had already gone home. He couldn't have run into traffic. She sat there for another 10 minutes, watching the second hand on the lobby clock creep around in increasingly slow motion. 25 minutes. Maybe the car had a flat tire or something. Still, he should have come back to tell her, if that were the case. They were using her vehicle for this appointment, not his Hummer, because it was easier for her to get in and out of at the moment. She looked accusingly at the circle drive in front of the building, but it didn't appear.  
  
Calleigh frowned more than slightly now. She was beginning to have the gnawing feeling that something was badly wrong. She pulled out her cell phone, dialed his, and let it ring 12 times. Before the 10th ring, though, she had pried herself off the bench and was heading out the doors at the fastest waddle she was capable of at the moment. She snapped the useless cell phone shut and urged her aching feet on, rounding the office building to the parking garage adjacent to it.  
  
Her car was still there, one of only a couple remaining on the first level. It seemed perfectly fine, the tires on this side at least inflated. As she passed the concrete support beams and got closer to it, though, she realized that there was a slumped silhouette in the passenger's seat. Calleigh actually pushed herself into a run somehow. He was there but apparently unconscious. She wrenched the door open and bent to check on him, noting with relief that he was still breathing. The relief was the last thing she felt before the sharp sting of a needle against the back of her neck.  
  
***  
  
It was after midnight when the phone rang. Breeze and Speed were wrapped up comfortably together watching a movie, and they looked at each other with the same thought. Forget it. Much too comfortable to get up. Besides, they had both worked all day. They had done their time. They turned back to the TV and were only dimly aware of the answering machine clicking on behind them.  
  
Eric's voice slammed into the cozy atmosphere and shattered it. "Speedle. Pick up. Now." Speed had never, in years of working together, heard that note in his friend's voice. Not just something wrong, but something catastrophic. He instantly scrambled off the couch and picked up the receiver, and there wasn't a trace of either irritation or sarcasm as he answered.  
  
"What's wrong, Eric?"  
  
"Horatio and Calleigh have been in a car accident." Eric hesitated. He sounded choked up but too numb to actually cry.  
  
"How bad?" Speed felt a cold lump strike in his own throat.  
  
"The car flipped off the road and rolled. It caught on fire." Eric stopped again momentarily, and Speed didn't encourage him, this time. As long as it wasn't actually said, he could deny it. "They were killed. Adele just called me from the scene. The original responders ran the license plate to get an ID, and Adele picked it up on the scanner." Speed's scientifically trained mind immediately filled in the rest of that statement, and he hated himself for his knowledge just then. He knew what severely burned bodies looked like. No wonder they had had to use the plate.  
  
"Where?" Eric gave him the address. "What the hell were Horatio and Calleigh doing way out there?"  
  
"Beats me, but we're working this scene ourselves. They deserve that much. If anything was odd about that accident, we'll find it."  
  
"Right. I'm leaving now." Speed hung up the phone and turned back to Breeze. Her shocked expression mirrored his.  
  
"Horatio and Calleigh?" Like him, she wanted to delay actually hearing the word as long as possible.  
  
Speed only nodded, unable to say it. His face told her everything. "I've got to go. We're working the accident scene."  
  
She came across to him, and they hugged each other in shock. "Call me when you can. I'll go on home." They both knew he wouldn't be back to his apartment that night.  
  
"I will." Speed headed out on frozen legs to the one scene he had never imagined processing.  
  
***  
  
The swirling emergency vehicle lights gave the accident scene a surreal appearance. Maybe it's a nightmare, Eric thought. Maybe I'll wake up in a minute. He stood at a slight distance, looking at calamity. The car had gone off the road, rolled, eventually landed against a tree, and burst into flames with such force that the tree was partly scorched as well. The two bodies had been gently, respectfully pried out of the slowly cooling metal after photographs and had been laid on the ground. Alexx was kneeling between them, more in a posture of prayer than examination. Eric forced himself to walk over and not turn away. Speed had taken one look, then spun around, looking sick, and was now up examining the road with a flashlight.  
  
"That fire was almost too intense," Eric said, forcing himself to see them as a case. Horatio would have wanted his people to do their jobs, even if he was one of the victims.  
  
"We'll know more at post, but I agree," Alexx said quietly. "The burning is far too severe. There might have been an accelerant used. I think something was poured over them." She looked from the tall, slim frame to the smaller one. "I'll know more at post," she repeated. She would do them herself, of course. They deserved that. She would just have to be sure to cry first, so she wouldn't destroy evidence by breaking down during the autopsy.  
  
Eric nodded. "They weren't wearing their seatbelts. Neither one. They always wear seatbelts. This whole scene feels wrong."  
  
"And why would they have been out here anyway? He was taking her to the doctor this afternoon. They would have just gone home."  
  
"Something's strange here. We're really going to have to wait for daylight to process this scene thoroughly, though. We'll have to look at that whole path, and the car went a good distance from the road. Too much chance of missing something doing it at night with lights." He looked down at his friends. "We aren't going to miss anything."  
  
"No," Alexx agreed. "We'll get them, Horatio, Calleigh. Whoever did this to the two of you will pay." Her voice caught suddenly. "No. The three of you." For a second, they both teetered on the brink of tears, and they both forced them back. Not right now. They had to be professional right now.  
  
Speed approached and stopped about 15 feet away. He simply couldn't look after that first glimpse. He hated himself for it, but he just couldn't. "We've got to go over this in the daylight, but I can't find any skid marks up on that road. It's like he drove straight off."  
  
A subdued Adele approached. "What do you think?" she said.  
  
"This is a staged accident. We're going to have to wait for daylight to really get started, though."  
  
Adele nodded. "I'll mark this whole area off and leave people on guard, too. We'll preserve every inch of this one, even if it messes up traffic."  
  
The two bodies were being zipped into body bags now by the body haulers. One of them looked back to the waiting van on the road, outside of the immediate scene. "They could have fried on the shoulder. Why do stiffs always have to travel so far from the road?"  
  
Eric abruptly snapped. Even in his charge, he judged the angle, and when he slammed into the speaker, he knocked him onto clear ground, not disturbing either body. They landed with Eric on top, and he slammed his fist into the man's face. "They were people! Not stiffs! Call them people, damn it."  
  
Speed, Alexx, and Adele all closed on him gently, pulling him away. The man ran one hand across his nose, which was bleeding, and stared at Eric. "Sorry, man. I didn't mean anything."  
  
Alexx spoke sharply. "Speed, get a swab from him to rule him out. He's bleeding in our crime scene." Speed snapped open a swab and ran it through the blood trail on the man's face, collecting the sample none too gently. Eric stood quietly now, still held by Alexx and Adele, but his eyes were blazing.  
  
"Call them people," he repeated dangerously.  
  
"Okay," the hauler replied, becoming more and more convinced that everyone at this scene was nuts. "They were people. I apologize for calling them stiffs."  
  
"Take the bodies on up," Alexx commanded. "And you'd better be damn careful with them." None of the team had ever heard Alexx swear, but none of the team registered that fact at the moment. All of them, even Adele, were glaring at the haulers.  
  
"Sure," the one with the bloody nose said. "We'll be careful." He would, too. These people really were crazy. He didn't want to join the casualty list by tripping on the way and offending them.  
  
The knot of friends stood by the burned out car watching the bodies carried to the van. Finally, Adele turned away. "I'll set up a guard for tonight. We'll have to work this scene in daylight."  
  
"I'll stay on guard," Eric said. Speed also volunteered, and the group began to disperse. Alexx slowly climbed into her vehicle. She had to do some grieving before approaching those autopsies. Slowly, she drove away, not toward CSI but toward a totally deserted stretch of beach she knew where she could break down in private.  
  
The vehicles began to leave, but two patrol officers stayed on guard, as well as Eric and Speed. Without saying a word, the two CSIs understood that they wanted to be alone, and they took up opposite positions, just outside of the crime scene tape. Eric sat there with his arms hugging his knees, fiercely watching the burned out car. No one was going to interfere with the evidence here tonight. Whoever had staged this accident would go down for it, and every single piece of evidence that would assist in that would be preserved. Eric vowed to the stars that he would bring justice to his friends. Just like Horatio had brought justice to so many victims. Tears welled up and flowed in rivers down his face, but Eric kept his eyes open, on guard.  
  
Speed sat a few hundred feet away. His mind was filled, not with this coming investigation, but with memories. Horatio and Calleigh. Friends, colleagues. They had taught him so much. After the death of his best friend, he had been numb for so many years, but they had taught him to open up to friendship again. He almost resented them now, for drawing him out enough to be hurt, and then he resented himself for resenting them. He wondered again, like he had after his friend's death so many years ago, if caring about anything was really worth it. Just as he was debating that, the image of Horatio filled his mind. Horatio had been a mentor in so many ways, but the strongest lesson learned in years of watching his boss was that people were worth caring about, that life was worth caring about, in spite of the pain it caused. Horatio had been through so much more than Speed had, yet he had never stopped caring. And now he was gone. They were both gone. Speed buried his face in his knees and sobbed.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh opened her eyes slowly, her slightly foggy mind trying to orient itself. She was lying on a double bed in a room she had never seen before. Not a bedroom. The walls, the ceiling, and the lights were all industrial. She reached for the baby protectively, checking on her, and realized suddenly that her hands were handcuffed in front of her. She probed her abdomen, but there was no pain. Rosalind shifted and kicked back at the pressure, and Calleigh gave a sigh of relief. Her daughter was okay. She could deal with whatever else she had to. She ran her hands over the rest of her body, but she seemed fine. No pain, just this fog slowly dissipating in her brain. She vaguely remembered the prick of a needle as she had stooped to check on . . .  
  
"Horatio!" She sat straight up, looking around frantically, and spotted him instantly. He was dumped in the corner of the room like a sack of mail. Their captor had not been as gentle with him as with her. Calleigh lurched off the bed and over to him, grabbing one of his hands, checking the pulse. It was steady but slightly fast. His hands were handcuffed, too. She reached out to stroke his cheek and noticed the slight abrasion on his face. Her CSI training kicked in on some distant level. That abrasion wasn't the type of injury that was caused by a person, at least not directly. He had been in some sort of accident.  
  
She rolled him onto his back on the floor and started checking him over thoroughly, working from the head down. No swelling anywhere on his head, and the old surgical site on the right felt perfectly stable. The abrasion was minor. He must have been knocked out by drugs, as she had, not by whatever had happened to him since. Of course, he had been drugged before she had, but their abductor had probably given him a stronger dose, allowing for size. That might explain why she had woken up first. She worked her hands further down, noticing the odd shirt he had on, then noticing that she was wearing the same kind. These weren't their shirts. The sleeves had been split completely and a full-length row of buttons sewn in the arms, making it possible to take them off in spite of the handcuffs. She undid all the buttons on his now and ran her hands over his torso. She felt along all of his ribs very carefully, because his breathing didn't seem quite right to her. Even and unlabored, but it, like his pulse, was a bit faster than usual. She couldn't feel anything, though. Maybe it was just due to the drug. He did have a few bruises here and there, a scrape at the left elbow. What had happened to him, and why hadn't it happened to her, too? Nothing seemed serious, though, until she reached the left leg. There, the dark material had a jagged tear in it and was glued to the leg with a darker, sticky substance, and the lower leg angled ominously. She worked the pants leg loose, pushed it up slowly to the mid point, and gasped.  
  
There was a deep, gaping gash about halfway between his knee and ankle. It ran almost halfway around his calf, and it was still oozing blood. She could see the layers within the wound, like an anatomical illustration in a textbook: Skin, subcutaneous tissue, muscle, and finally, bone. She could actually see the jagged, uneven edges of bone in the base of it, as well as bits of dirt, grass, and debris. She ran her hands over the leg, feeling the abnormality, and he stirred faintly. She instantly let go and sat back. "Horatio?"  
  
He didn't move again. Still unconscious, and she was suddenly glad of it. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her mind leaped down memory tracks of conversations with Alexx and her own knowledge. That was an open fracture of the tibia. Again, it wasn't the type he would get from being hit by someone. The mechanics required for that break were crazy, almost impossible to plan for. What on earth had happened to him? First aid, she thought. Stop the bleeding, bandage it, and splint it. At least it wasn't bleeding too badly, so blood loss probably wasn't an issue. No arteries had been damaged. Even with treatment, though, she knew that open fractures were notorious for complications. And how much treatment was possible while they were being held hostage?  
  
She gave Horatio a comforting pat on the shoulder and scrambled clumsily to her feet, surveying their prison in detail, looking for anything she could use. The room was small, but it obviously had been prepared for them carefully. In one corner, there was a stack of clothes. She went over to sift through them. Several sets, in the appropriate sizes, with all of the sleeves in the shirts split and replaced with rows of buttons. In another corner, there was a stockpile of cans. Soup, fruit, several vegetables. There were even a few boxes of teabags for hot tea. An electric can opener was beside them, as was a microwave. Two bowls, two plastic spoons, and two cups were on the microwave, and next to that on the floor were ten cases of bottled water. Her heart suddenly tightened up even more. Ten cases. How long were they going to be kept prisoner here?  
  
She checked the door, which was indeed locked, and walked past Horatio, who had been dumped in the third corner. At the fourth corner of the room was another door, and that one stood slightly open. It was a bathroom, including an industrial-sized sink with a spray attachment. On the floor in the bathroom were towels, soap, shampoo, shaving cream, a safety razor, toothpaste, and a toothbrush. There was also a box of trash bags. What a considerate captor, she thought disgustedly. At the moment, she was more concerned with what wasn't there. There was nothing long enough or firm enough to use for a splint. The spoons were the closest, and they were far too short and flimsy to really be effective. Nothing for a weapon, either, but she wasn't thinking that far ahead yet.  
  
She picked up a few towels, then went back to the larger room and dug through the pile of clothes again, finding two pairs of socks. She then opened a case of water, removing one bottle, and returned to Horatio. Gently, she worked the bloodstained pants off him after removing his shoes. They were still his pants, as she had hers. Only the shirts had been changed. She hesitated, looking at the wound again, feeling totally out of her depth. Nothing she had here was sterile, but it was obviously already badly contaminated anyway. She would do what she could. She slipped one folded towel under his leg, then opened the water and slowly, precisely, poured it through the wound, trying to flush out the debris. She couldn't get it all, but it did look a good bit cleaner when she finished. The wound was still bleeding slightly. She removed the soaked towel and grabbed another one, folding it into a tight square and applying pressure to the gash. Horatio shifted faintly, trying to pull away from her as the pain momentarily overpowered the drug. "I'm sorry, love," she soothed, with tears filling her own eyes. "Easy. It'll be okay." Incredibly, her words apparently reached him on some level, because he stopped moving and just lay motionless again. She held the pressure for ten minutes by her watch, which she was still wearing, then removed the pad to check. The bleeding had stopped. She didn't even try to pull the leg back into alignment. Setting that break would require traction and a lot more strength than she had. She picked up a third towel and wrapped his leg for the whole length of the calf, hoping that it would provide at least some support, like an oversized Ace bandage. Finally, she tied a pair of socks around it at the top and bottom to hold it in place.  
  
Calleigh slowly pulled herself to her feet, taking the bloodstained pants and towels and putting them in a trash bag in a corner of the bathroom. She washed her hands thoroughly, then went back out, fetched another pair of pants for him from the pile, and slipped those on with some difficulty over her makeshift dressing. He shifted again, whimpering slightly as she moved the leg, although she handled it as little as she could. She finished, rebuttoned his shirt, and then tried to drag him by his shoulders over to the bed. She managed it, barely, but a warning stab of pain across her abdomen stopped her from trying to lift him, and her blood pressure was singing in her ears again, louder than before. She would simply have to wait until he was awake to help her. She settled with difficulty on the floor with her back against the bed and managed to prop his head on the very edge of her already full lap. Stroking his hair sympathetically, she sat there waiting and thinking.  
  
Obviously, whoever had them wanted them alive. There was a weird sort of consideration in it, all the preparations for the room, the care with which she had been placed on the bed, the time it had taken to sew all of those buttons on the shirts. He cared more about her than Horatio, but he wanted both of them. For what? Ransom? Revenge? Whoever he was, he had them securely in his clutches. She wasn't capable of much resistance in her current condition, and Horatio was hurt. She grasped at the thin straw of hope. There were supplies here for several days, even for a couple of weeks. The team would be looking for them. The longer they were held in one place, the closer the team would be to finding them. Hurry up, she prayed fervently. We need you. I don't think we can get out of this one on our own.  
  
Horatio turned his head slightly, and his features set into a grimace of pain as his body shifted. "Horatio," Calleigh said softly. "Wake up." But she didn't really want him to, for his sake.  
  
The eyes opened, full of bewildered pain. "Calleigh," he said. "You okay?"  
  
"Fine. I'm fine. So is Rosalind."  
  
He started to sit up and nearly fell back over. "My leg . . ." he started, looking down toward it.  
  
"It's broken. I think you were in some kind of accident." She wrapped her arms around him as far as she could in her handcuffed state, trying to take some of it for him.  
  
"An accident." He leaned his head against her, closing his eyes. "Don't remember an accident."  
  
"Neither do I. Someone was waiting for us in the parking garage, after we left the doctor's. He picked us off one at a time and drugged us. The accident must have come after."  
  
His eyes snapped open suddenly. "You sure you're okay?"  
  
"I'm fine. I don't think I was in it. Horatio, does it hurt anywhere else besides the leg?"  
  
He had to think about it for a minute. It was hard to feel past the leg to notice anything else. "I don't think so," he said finally.  
  
"There's nothing to splint it with. I looked around." She squeezed him protectively. "I'm sorry."  
  
He straightened up a bit, looking around himself. "Where are we?"  
  
"Locked in some kind of room. There's a bathroom here, and supplies for several days. And clothes, even. Whoever this is, he wants us in decent shape." She looked at the handcuffs on both of them, at his leg. "Incapacitated and not a threat, but he does want us in decent shape, besides that."  
  
His mind started analyzing it automatically, and he followed the train of thought, trying to distract himself. "Too much effort to be simple revenge. It's risky to keep us hostage for any length of time, too. If he just wanted revenge, he'd kill us right away. Wonder what he wants. This isn't a bedroom. The construction is wrong. Probably an abandoned warehouse somewhere."  
  
"That'd be my guess." She hugged him with her hands. "Horatio, what are we going to do?"  
  
"Wait for the team. They'll find us. And watch for a chance in the meantime."  
  
"How much of a chance do you think we'd have?" She felt like a lumbering hippopotamus herself, and he wouldn't be able to walk. How could they possibly overpower someone?  
  
"Doesn't look like much at the moment," he admitted. "Things can change, though." He shifted and bit his lip as the leg protested the movement.  
  
"Horatio, do you think you could get up on the bed? You'd be more comfortable there. I couldn't get you onto it. I tried."  
  
"Shouldn't have tried," he insisted. "If we do get a chance, let me be the one to take it. You've got to think of Rosalind." He tried to pick himself up, grasping the edge of the bed for leverage, but he had only started to make it when the lock suddenly rattled. He dropped back down, sweating, and Calleigh shifted a bit protectively, trying to shield him, as the door slowly swung open.  
  
Their captor stepped in carefully, holding a gun in front of him, ready for action. He smiled almost courteously at them. "I did warn you, Horatio, that you should have let me die."  
  
It was Stewart Otis. 


	2. Complications 2

Here's a bonus chapter for this week, courtesy of the winter storm that changed my plans for tonight. See chapter 1 for disclaimers, etc. Don't expect it to get better yet. Nothing does until the very end.  
  
***  
  
"Lock me in any cell in any prison anywhere at any time, wearing only what is necessary, and I'll escape in a week."  
  
The challenge (successfully answered) that forms the plot for a truly awesome short story, "The Problem of Cell 13" by Jacques Futrelle  
  
***  
  
It was unmistakably Otis. His hair had been dyed darker brown, but the whole demeanor of twistedness behind a polite front was the same. So were the eyes. Especially the eyes, almost faded in color, missing some vital quality when inspected closely, like the soulless man they belonged to. They surveyed his captives now with a restrained eagerness, like a cat choosing to play with its prey before eating it.  
  
Calleigh and Horatio both stared at him. It was Calleigh who broke the silence. "Stewart Otis. What are you doing out? We hadn't heard anything."  
  
"You should have been expecting it. I told you I'd get out again, Horatio. It's my nature. In fact, this way is much better to escape. Last time was Hank Kerner's plan, not mine. Too much show, too complicated. The only way to escape from prison is to do it so you won't be missed. I know that now." His voice, too, was the same, as calm as if he were discussing the weather.  
  
Horatio, as always, shuddered inwardly looking at him, not for his own sake but for all the victims. Something that twisted should bear a visible mark, shouldn't appear harmless. Otis shouldn't be unobtrusive, and he was. "We'll just catch you again, you know," he said.  
  
Otis shook his head. "I don't think so. This plan is perfect. You can't do anything, and your friends won't be looking. They don't know that I'm out, and they think you're both dead. So it's just us, Horatio. Nice and private."  
  
Calleigh straightened up, feeling a stab of anger overlaid with pity for the team. "What do you mean, they think we're dead?"  
  
"There was an unfortunate car accident. The car caught on fire, too. That happens when you douse the bodies with gasoline and throw a match. There's not enough left to identify."  
  
Horatio and Calleigh forced themselves not to look at each other. Otis did not know forensics. They would back the team's knowledge against his any day. He could not stage an accident that would fool CSI. "An accident," Calleigh repeated. "Is that what happened to Horatio?" No point in denying that he was hurt. Otis certainly already knew that.  
  
Otis smiled his twisted smile. "Yes, it was. I had to hurt you to make you cooperative. I was going to shoot you, Horatio, give you a flesh wound in the shoulder, like you did me. But then, I decided to put you in the car when it went off the road. That way, fate would tell me if my plan would succeed." His voice was absolutely earnest. Calleigh shuddered again. This man had a warped soul. His intelligence and patience made him even more dangerous. "Fate spoke, Horatio. This time, I have fate on my side. It hurt you enough to make you harmless, but not enough to kill you outright. You'll live long enough to see my plan." Otis' eyes tracked Horatio's leg. "Actually, you were ejected when the car rolled the first time. You weren't wearing your seatbelt. Didn't anyone ever tell you that you should always wear your seatbelt, Horatio?"  
  
Horatio forced himself to channel his fury, not to let it block thought. The implications of being Otis' captive horrified him, not for himself but for Calleigh and, especially, Rosalind. The only answer was to wait for the team, though. Horatio trusted his people with his life. He had often thought it; now it would be put to a literal test. He touched Calleigh lightly on the wrist, sensing that she was near boiling point herself.  
  
Otis was looking around the room, though the gun never wavered. "You should find everything you need here to be comfortable for several days," he said, almost like he was giving a hotel recommendation. Calleigh wondered now why she hadn't realized at once that Otis was behind this. The superficial veneer of consideration over the horrifying reality, the concern for neatness, even the sewing skills all screamed Otis now that she thought about it. "Have I overlooked anything?" he asked, sounding honestly concerned.  
  
She wanted to ask for the handcuff key but wouldn't give him the satisfaction. "One thing," she said, forcing herself to sound entreating. "Could I have some Tylenol? I've been going through a lot of it lately. I get these backaches."  
  
There was a glimmer of respect in his eyes as they met hers. "Nice try. You're good, Calleigh, but I'm ahead of you. If I really thought you would be the one taking it, I'd give it to you, but I'm afraid I'll have to say no. Blame Horatio."  
  
The entreating tone cracked and fell away, leaving her true feelings on open display. "I know who to blame here, Otis. And when you get caught for this, you won't get another chance. If you killed two people to stage as us in a car accident, on top of your other crimes, you're already looking at the death penalty."  
  
"You still don't understand," Otis replied. "Why can't people ever understand?" He honestly sounded offended by society's lack of perception. "I'm not the one who's going to die, Calleigh. Both of you are. But not quite yet." His eyes assessed her condition, measuring the bulge at her middle, and Calleigh realized with a gasp what Horatio had realized several minutes earlier, Otis' true intentions. She gathered herself to tackle him and couldn't even do that subtly, her unwieldy body pinning her to the floor. Otis watched her struggles passively. "Don't hurt yourself, Calleigh. You're going to be useful. This time, Horatio, life won't be full of disappointment. Both of you are going to give me the one thing I've always wanted." With a final twisted smile, he kicked Horatio sharply in the leg, then turned and left, locking the door carefully behind him.  
  
***  
  
Alexx got out the instruments slowly, preparing to do her last service to the best boss - the best man - she had ever known. She thought of Calleigh, too, the smaller charred body waiting its turn. What a beautiful friend. Alexx's eyes welled up again, and she fought the tears back. Last night, she had let herself go completely, mourning them both. Today, the team had to get down to avenging them. Something was definitely wrong about that accident scene. Alexx thought of Speed and Eric out there in daylight now, putting the pieces together. She would do her part as well.  
  
She approached the body and forced herself to examine it clinically. The charring was intense, but the fact that the body wasn't quite as burned on the back of the legs, the part that had been against the car seat, confirmed her guess that some accelerant had been poured over him while he sat in the car unconscious. The perp had leaned him forward to pour whatever it was over his back, too, after dousing the front, but he hadn't removed his victims from the car before pouring. The other body was burned even more badly, especially the abdomen. Alexx suspected that she had had a full container of gasoline placed in her lap. The attack on Rosalind had been the most severe, totally obliterating the visible evidence of pregnancy, at least to preliminary inspection. Alexx vowed to get every possible detail to help catch the monster who had done this. She would do tox screens, too, looking for any drug, as well as searching during the autopsies for injuries that could have caused unconsciousness or even death prior to the fire. She hoped they had been dead first.  
  
She picked up the knife, held it poised over the blackened skin to start the Y incision, and put it back down. This was the hardest incision she had ever made in her life. Still, she owed him this. No one else was going to cut into that body, either. It would be her. She reached out to the head, charred beyond recognition, flesh cracked and bared to the scorched bone in places. "I'm sorry, Horatio. You know I have to," she apologized. She ran both gloved hands back from the face along the sides of his head soothingly, as if he could still feel it. "I'm sorry," she repeated.  
  
Halfway through her turn back to the knife, Alexx froze. Her fingers were trying to tell her something, and after a second, the message reached her mind. She reached for the head again, and this time, there was nothing reluctant or soothing about her touch. It was purely clinical. She carefully, thoroughly explored the entire right side of the skull, then reached for the knife and eagerly cut through the remaining skin that clung to it, baring the bone completely. Her heart leaped into her throat as she repeated the examination carefully. The craniotomy site where a piece of bone had been cut out and then reset with bone clips simply wasn't there. There was no way a fire could make smooth, even bone out of what had been surgically repaired, and the clips would have survived, too. Alexx hurried down to the left ankle and cut into it urgently, finding her way down to the joint, where there should be several screws still in place. They weren't there.  
  
Alexx felt a thrill of relief, followed by a even stronger thrill of anxiety. If this wasn't Horatio, he was still out there somewhere. She gave the body a pat on the shoulder. "Whoever you are, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to wait a bit." She stripped her gloves off and grabbed the phone, dialing urgently.  
  
***  
  
Eric stared at the shoulder of the road, trying to sort out the tracks. The car had gone straight off, moving at a fairly good rate of speed, with no signs of braking. It had rolled twice, then traveled on down a slight slope until its front bumper embraced the tree. There was a mark Eric couldn't explain, though. Right after the first roll, it looked like someone had been flung out of the car. There was even a bit of blood there. Eric knelt to take a sample. But if Horatio and Calleigh had both been in the car when it caught on fire at the tree, then who was this?  
  
His cell phone interrupted his thoughts. "Delko," he said halfheartedly.  
  
Alexx's voice was wound tight as a spring, pitched way above her usual calm range. "Eric, it isn't them."  
  
Eric came straight up to his feet. "What? Are you sure?"  
  
"Positive. Well, only positive about Horatio, but I'll be positive about Calleigh shortly. I'm running an HCG on that body. I'm willing to bet that woman wasn't pregnant, and that's why the burning was so severe on her abdomen, to try to hide it. But it definitely isn't Horatio. That old injury from the bridge collapse would be unmistakable, even after the fire. It isn't there."  
  
Eric let out a deep breath, then immediately caught it again. "It is Calleigh's car, though. That means someone still has them."  
  
"Yes. But almost certainly alive. If they were dead, why bother to replace the bodies?"  
  
"Right. You know, Alexx, we have Horatio's DNA in the database. From that case a year ago, when he was framed for his ex-wife's murder. I believe you, but a DNA sample would be double proof."  
  
"Good thinking. I'll have Valera compare them."  
  
Eric didn't even smile at his girlfriend's name, a tribute to the seriousness of the moment. "We're going to process every inch of this site. One thing, could you call the doctor's office? We know Horatio was going to take Calleigh to a doctor's appointment yesterday afternoon. Find out if they kept the appointment. It would help on the timeline. If we can find out where they were abducted, that's our main crime scene."  
  
"You got it." Alexx hung up, and Eric turned toward Speed, who was a couple of hundred yards away on the road. "Speed!" He could have called him on the cell, but he felt like shouting. "Speed!" Speed straightened up numbly, looking down at his friend. "It isn't them!" Eric shouted. Speed broke into a run, coming down the road toward him, and Eric met him halfway.  
  
***  
  
Horatio's body had finally stopped trembling. He leaned against Calleigh, his head propped on her stomach, using Rosalind for a pillow. She held him, stroking his hair. His eyes were shut, but she knew he wasn't asleep. She had actually hoped he would pass out after Otis had kicked him and gain brief escape that way, but his stubborn will refused to let his consciousness yield, although it had teetered uncertainly in the balance momentarily. He was absolutely still now, eyes closed, his breathing even but rapid, as before.  
  
"Any better?" she asked finally. She didn't ask if he was okay. The answer to that question was too obvious to both of them.  
  
"A little," he said. "It's like waves. If I can stay on top of them, it starts to settle down some." One eye opened. "You realize what he wants, don't you?"  
  
She nodded. "Rosalind. Horatio, what are we going to do?"  
  
"Wait for the team. Nothing else we can do." Rosalind shifted just then, bumping against her father, and he sat up a bit. "You stay in there, Rosalind. You're safe there. You can't be born until we get out of this."  
  
"I hope she's listening," Calleigh said. She tried to remember if she and her siblings had come early or late.  
  
"How are you feeling? How's that ringing in your ears?" Horatio had made it up to a sitting position now, still slumped against her, but the concern in his voice was strong.  
  
She was completely honest with him. They had to be open with each other in this. "It was louder when I first woke up and especially after I dragged you across the room, but it's settled down again now. I don't think the drug did me much good, but I feel better now that it's totally worn off." She squeezed him with her cuffed hands. "I wish I could have gotten some Tylenol or something for you. I'm sorry, Horatio."  
  
He recognized the need for openness, too. "Honestly, Cal, I don't think Tylenol would touch it."  
  
"Do you think you could get up? I hate to mention it, Horatio, but my back's killing me." She felt guilty comparing that to what he must be going through, but she would swear that the edge of the box spring had made a permanent impression into her skin. Besides, he would be more comfortable off the floor himself.  
  
He once again gripped the edge of the bed and levered himself up. This time he made it, standing on one leg with the left foot just barely touching the floor for balance. He made a hopping turn, surveying the room completely himself for the first time. "Is that the bathroom over there?"  
  
"Yes. There are all sorts of supplies here, actually. He really has prepared things. How do you suppose he got out, Horatio?" She pulled herself clumsily to her own feet.  
  
"He must have switched places with another prisoner, so they don't realize it's Otis who's missing. The team will work it out. They'll find us." He sat down on the edge of the bed and slowly worked his left leg up onto it. The effort had him sweating again by the time he was lying down.  
  
Calleigh sat down on the edge next to him and pulled his head over against her leg, holding him until the tide of pain started to retreat a bit. When he relaxed slightly, she got up and leaned over the bed, feeling along his wrapped leg as gently as she could. Nothing had soaked through. "I don't think it's bleeding. I was afraid Otis had set that off again."  
  
His eyes opened. "Bleeding? It's an open fracture?"  
  
"Yes. Really nasty looking. I stopped the bleeding and wrapped it, but there's nothing here to use as a splint, and the wound is wide open. It was full of dirt and such, too"  
  
"We have got to get out of here," he said urgently, and for the first time, there was a slight acknowledgement of his own need, as well as the larger question of her own and Rosalind's safety.  
  
"I know." Her concern was evenly divided between him and Rosalind. She let her eyes quest around the room again, looking for anything she might have missed to use as a splint. She spotted nothing new, but as she saw the cases of water again, she suddenly realized that she was thirsty. Horatio had to be as well. They had to keep themselves in as good condition as they could until the team found them. She fetched two bottles out of the open case. "Here, Horatio." She opened one and handed it to him. "We've got to keep our fluid intake up. I wish I had something stronger to give you, but I don't."  
  
He propped himself up on one elbow, accepting it. "Water is fine, Cal. I wouldn't want alcohol if we had it." He took several gulps.  
  
"It might numb your leg out a little bit."  
  
"Numb my mind out, too. I'm not leaving you to deal with this alone." It was a fierce promise. She leaned over and kissed him.  
  
"Thank you, Horatio. But when we get out of here, once Otis is captured, you're going to the hospital, and they're going to give you enough painkillers that you can't see straight, even if I have to hold you down while they give you the shot."  
  
He smiled. "Believe it or not, no arguments. But we've got to get out of here first."  
  
"Yes." They finished off the water, and she threw away the empty bottles, then walked around the bed to the other side and lay down next to him, careful not to jolt him. He turned gingerly onto his side, facing her as she faced him. They lay there in silence with Rosalind protected between them and let their minds stretch beyond their prison to the team's ongoing investigation, as if they could send out a beacon by thought alone.  
  
***  
  
Speed and Eric stood about 300 yards from the point where the car had left the road. Speed knelt and pointed to the stains on the pavement. "There was a second car with slight oil and transmission leaks. It sat here for a while. Then, it sat on the other side, just around that curve, for several minutes. Nice lonely road for staging an accident after dark." He straightened up, looking down toward the accident site. From this perspective, what had happened was obvious. The other car had pushed Calleigh's car from this point, building up speed down this long straightway, then backed off as Calleigh's car failed to make the curve and went off the road.  
  
Eric nodded. "That explains the scuff marks on the rear bumper, too. The other vehicle will have scuff marks on the front bumper."  
  
"Between the bumper and the leaks, I think we could identify the car if we found it."  
  
"Yes. I printed Calleigh's car as well as I could, the surfaces that weren't scorched or melted, but most of the fingerprints are old, jumbled. I think the perp wore gloves. Two things we can use. The car was in neutral, and the windows were all rolled down."  
  
"In late February?" This was Florida, but still.  
  
"Right. He had to roll them down to lean in and pour gasoline or whatever on the bodies. One weird thing, though." Eric jogged down the road to the curve where the car had gone off. "Look at these marks. It went off and rolled twice, but I swear, somebody was ejected on that first roll. Look at this scuff mark and the rock." He pointed out a jaggedly sharp rock protruding slightly from the ground. Blood was on it and on the dirt around it. "I took a sample of the blood. There was a dark fiber caught on the rock, too. Looked like it was from a suit, top quality, too. Footprints come up to it, then are deeper going away, like he was carrying something. I got a cast of the footprints. Looked like tennis shoes, just off the shelf. They were around the car, too. Some deeper, some not."  
  
Speed studied the marks himself, trying to piece it together. "We can guess height on the perp from his shoe size and stride. You think that one of them really was in the accident and that the perp put the fake bodies in at the tree?"  
  
"I hope not, but it looks like it. We can run the blood. We've already got Horatio's DNA in the computer, and we can get a sample of Calleigh's from the house. Speed, we need to check out their house. It could be the primary crime scene."  
  
"Good thinking." Speed gave a final glance around this scene. They had spent hours processing and photographing. "We're about done here, I think."  
  
"Yeah." The car had already been towed away for closer inspection at CSI. "Alexx is checking on the doctor's appointment yesterday. She called me back a while ago to tell me the DNA and the HCG were both negative. It definitely isn't them."  
  
"Somebody has them, though." Speed hesitated. "Let's grab a bite to eat on the way over to their house, too."  
  
"How can you think of food at a time like this?" Eric couldn't believe it. "Don't you even care what's happened to them?"  
  
Speed forced himself not to react to his friend's tone. "Look, man, neither one of us has had anything to eat all day, and it's 5:00 PM. We won't help Horatio and Calleigh by running ourselves into collapse."  
  
Eric sighed. "I guess you're right. I am hungry, now that I think about it." He almost felt guilty for it. "Let's make it fast, though. We've got to find them before something worse happens."  
  
Speed studied his friend's intense, burning eyes. "You know, back on that sniper case, H told me something one day I've never forgotten."  
  
Eric looked at him curiously. "What's that?"  
  
"I was worrying about catching that sicko before he struck again, and I asked H how long he thought it was going to take. He said he didn't know, but that it would take longer if the perp could make us change the way we do things."  
  
Eric nodded slowly. "I know. We can't get too rushed on it. But this is H and Calleigh out there."  
  
"And Rosalind," Speed reminded him.  
  
"And Rosalind. And at least one of them is hurt." Eric looked at the blood again. At least it wasn't much blood.  
  
"Let's go eat, Eric." They walked back to the second Hummer allotted to CSI and turned urgently toward Miami. Horatio and Calleigh were waiting for them somewhere.  
  
***  
  
Alexx met them at the house. They had called her with an update from the fast food place they stopped at, and she said she had a key herself. She was already waiting in the driveway when they got there. Horatio's Hummer sat parked next to her car.  
  
"Nothing looks wrong with it." Speed circled it once slowly. "We ought to take it back to CSI, though, and process it, just in case. There are spare keys back at the lab."  
  
"I didn't want to unlock the house until you got here," Alexx said. "You did both eat something?"  
  
"Yeah," Eric assured her, although he still felt guilty for taking the time.  
  
"We all need to get some sleep tonight, too." Both of the others looked at her in disbelief. "I know it sounds impossible, but we were up all night last night. The minute we get into bed, we'll crash. We can't let ourselves get run down on this. We won't be able to think straight that way."  
  
"What about the doctor's appointment?" Speed asked.  
  
"They kept it, but the doctor was running very late. They left there about 7:00. The perp may have been waiting for them here when they got home."  
  
"Or there, if they left that late," Eric pointed out. "The parking garage would have been almost deserted. If someone was following them looking for an opportunity, he could have taken it then. Did they have security cameras in the garage?"  
  
It was Alexx's turn to feel guilty. "I didn't think to ask."  
  
"You don't usually deal with that end of it," Speed reassured her. "We'll check on it." He studied the door, which looked unmarked. "Doesn't show anything. Let me dust the knob for prints before you unlock it." He did so, lifting several sets, but it looked like only two contributors, probably Horatio and Calleigh. Alexx then unlocked the door, and they stepped inside.  
  
The house looked and felt absolutely normal. They divided it into quadrants and started looking for anything out of place. Alexx took the bedroom, turning back the carefully smoothed bedspread and studying the sheets meticulously until she found a long, blonde hair. She captured it and put it in an envelope, sealing it carefully. They could now doubly rule out Calleigh as a body, but Alexx still worried about that blood the boys had found. She crossed the hall from the bedroom and stopped in the door of the nursery. Everything had been set up in confident anticipation. The yellow and blue color scheme drew the room cheerfully together. A rocking chair sat in the middle of the floor, ready for use, and in the crib against the wall there was a large stuffed cat, one of Alexx's gifts to them at the baby shower a month ago. It all looked so normal, and so empty. Again, she felt tears well up and forced them back down. They're alive, she reminded herself. If they were dead, they would have been in the car. But the cold, metallic taste of fear was still in her mouth.  
  
"Anything?" Speed spoke from behind her, and Alexx jumped. "Sorry. Find anything?"  
  
"Nothing seems to be disturbed. I did find one of Calleigh's hairs in the bed, so we can get her DNA. What about you?"  
  
"Absolutely nothing. I don't think it happened here. No sign of a fight at all, and it would be hard to take them both down without a struggle."  
  
"Unless there's more than one perp," Eric suggested as he came up to join them. "There only seemed to be one set of footprints at the accident scene, though."  
  
Alexx shook her head. "If there is just one, how is he keeping both of them prisoner? Calleigh couldn't do much right now, but Horatio wouldn't be cooperative."  
  
They looked at each other in helpless silence. They had learned a lot over the course of this day, but they were left with even more questions than when they had started. Alexx finally broke the silence, firmly taking charge. "We all need to go home and get some sleep. We'll pick it back up in the morning."  
  
They reluctantly agreed this time. This case wasn't going to be solved tonight. As they relocked the house securely and left, though, they hesitated beside Horatio's Hummer as it invoked even more strongly the presence of its master. Their mentor, their friend, both of their friends were counting on them. They silently promised that they would not fail them.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh was asleep, uneasily, restlessly asleep. Horatio lay beside her watching her, his mind absolutely racing. Calleigh had warmed up soup and hot tea earlier for them, although he didn't really feel like eating. They had stretched out on the bed then, silent but touching, desperately reconsidering the situation, looking for anything they had missed. Finally, she had drifted off. He could not sleep himself, but in between surfing on waves of pain, his mind ran over the options. If Otis got close enough, he might try tackling him, but Otis had kept a discrete distance so far. There was also the gun. Getting shot wouldn't help their situation, but if he got a chance to knock it out of Otis' hand, Calleigh could pick it up. He would trust his life to her marksmanship. He kept coming back to the team, though. The team was the best chance by far. They would know it was a staged accident. They would find out about Otis' escape. They would track them down at wherever this prison was. Horatio shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position, and stared at the industrial ceiling. Please, he thought, hurry. He lost track of the hours as he lay there waiting for anyone, either Otis or the CSIs, but no one came. 


	3. Complications 3

Chapter 3. See chapter 1 for rating, disclaimer, and unconditional guarantee of happy ending.  
  
***  
  
"By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes."  
  
William Shakespeare, Macbeth  
  
***  
  
Horatio lay there fiercely concentrating on the future, trying to anticipate various opportunities and prepare advance plans for each, but his mind kept slipping back into the past. Stewart Otis. Of all the criminals he had encountered in his career at CSI, Otis was the one he had dreaded most whenever he considered the possibilities of escape. Dread not for himself, but for the victims, the innocent, helpless children. Images flooded his mind, hurting him more than his leg.  
  
Ruthie Crighton, her angelic features forever stilled on the cold, hard floor.  
  
The sick collection of missing children's pictures on milk cartons that formed Otis' private tombstones.  
  
The children buried in the backyard, many with features still pitifully recognizable.  
  
Otis presenting Horatio with what he honestly considered a legitimate complaint. "I never even got to play with her."  
  
The slam of fear into Horatio's stomach when he had recognized Otis on the traffic camera and realized who else besides Hank Kerner had escaped.  
  
Emma, the child he had vowed would be the last one Otis would harm. Yet it wasn't the first time Horatio had made that vow, and his best efforts hadn't been enough.  
  
The image he kept coming back to over and over was Otis dangling from the top of the parking garage, pleading with Horatio to let him fall. Horatio had wanted to grant him exactly what he was asking for. Yet he hadn't. He wished he could be given the opportunity again, so he could change his decision.  
  
And now Rosalind. . .  
  
No. Horatio's mind slammed that door immediately. He would not imagine Rosalind in this sick monster's clutches. It would never happen. They would get out. He would protect his daughter somehow; he refused to consider the possibility of failure there. He would never see Calleigh devastated like Ruthie Crighton's mother had been. And this time, Otis would not hurt anyone else. Not Calleigh, not Rosalind, not any mother or child.  
  
Calleigh stirred next to him and slowly opened her eyes as if hoping the world would have changed since she had gone to sleep. It hadn't. The disappointment in her expression was instantly replaced by defiance. She looked over at Horatio. "Hi," she said. Neither of them could say good morning. "Did you get any sleep?"  
  
Horatio shook his head. "Couldn't manage it. I spent the time thinking instead."  
  
Calleigh followed him effortlessly into his mind. "You wish you had let him fall, don't you?"  
  
He sighed. "I had a perfect chance there, Calleigh. No one would have blamed me."  
  
"You would have blamed you." She reached out with her cuffed hands to touch his face.  
  
"I wish I could do it over again. I'd let him fall without a second thought."  
  
"No, you wouldn't. You aren't Otis, Horatio; you can't just kill like that. You let him live because you didn't have to kill him to take him down. You couldn't have known this would happen."  
  
He stared at the ceiling. "Maybe," he said after a moment. "If I get another chance like that, though, he's dead, Cal." His eyes switched back to hers, suddenly self-accusing. "Does that mean I value Rosalind more than Ruthie Crighton and the others?"  
  
"She's your daughter, Horatio, but no, you weren't shortchanging Ruthie and Emma. You value all people. It just didn't have to be done then. You could take him without it. I don't think we'll have a choice this time, unless the team gets him for us. If he gives us an opening, we'll have to kill him. I doubt either one of us could escape otherwise, not at the moment."  
  
"He'll have to give us an opening, though." Horatio clenched his fists in frustration, looking at his leg. Calleigh gripped his hand gently.  
  
"He will. Criminals make mistakes. You've told us that a thousand times."  
  
He looked back at her affectionately, returning the squeeze of her hand. "You're right, they do. He hasn't got a chance, Cal."  
  
"Against us plus the team? No way."  
  
"How are you feeling?" he asked.  
  
"Tired. I don't think that night's sleep was worth much. What about you?"  
  
"Same answer." He was sure that night hadn't been worth much.  
  
"How's the leg?"  
  
"No worse, anyway."  
  
She gave his hand a final squeeze and sat up on the edge of the bed. "I'd better get us some breakfast, I guess. It seems crazy to be hungry right now, but I am."  
  
"You're eating for two," he reminded her. "You've got to take care of Rosalind." Suddenly, he came to attention, looking at the door, and held up one hand to silence her question. Calleigh heard it herself finally. The faint sound of tennis shoes on a concrete floor approached the door, then paused outside it. She could picture Otis listening intently outside, trying to hear a baby. She waited for the door to be unlocked, but he only stood there for a minute, then retreated. Horatio and Calleigh looked at each other in mutual fierce promise. This man would not get their daughter.  
  
After a moment, she finished getting up and headed for the cans, surveying the selection. "What flavor of soup do you want, Horatio?"  
  
"I'm not really hungry." Actually, the pain made him feel slightly sick to his stomach. He had noticed it last night when eating, too. "Just get whatever you want."  
  
Calleigh eyed him, changing the focus of her worry. "You ought to try to eat something."  
  
"Okay, then. I'll try." He didn't want to worry Calleigh any more than she already was. "Make us some hot tea, too. That tasted good last night." She turned back to their supplies and heard his velvet voice behind her, as if they were in the break room at CSI and she was fixing him coffee. "Thank you, Calleigh." The words sounded so normal, so routine, that for a moment, tears of nostalgia came to her eyes. Would they ever have conversations at CSI or in their own kitchen again? She instantly fought the rebellious tears down, not wanting to worry him any more than he already was. By the time she finished her task and faced him again, her face was perfectly steady.  
  
***  
  
Speed stared at the screen. For the tenth time, he watched Horatio and Calleigh be caught off guard, and for the tenth time, he had to fight down the urge to yell a warning, as if they might hear him even now and turn. Eric entered the video processing room. "I went over the Hummer. Nothing. We had to rule it out, though. Did you get anything from the tapes from the garage?"  
  
"Yes, just not enough." Speed hit rewind. "One camera has the whole abduction. Watch. Here's 7:05 PM." Horatio entered the garage, heading for Calleigh's car with his easy, graceful stride but with his mind obviously somewhere else. In the far bottom corner of the screen, barely visible, the perp pressed up against a concrete pillar out of view, but his hands were busy, and they could make out the needle in his gloved hand when he started forward. He approached on cat feet, and Horatio, bending to unlock the car, never turned.  
  
"H, turn around!" Eric blurted out, then looked embarrassed. "Sorry, I forgot it was a video."  
  
"I know," Speed admitted. "I've seen it ten times, and I still want to warn him."  
  
The needle flashed, and Horatio crumpled into the car. The perp caught him and dragged him around to the passenger's side, unlocking that door and folding him into the vehicle. He then quickly pocketed the keys and walked away.  
  
"Okay, now here's 7:32. Nothing happens in between." Speed fast forwarded and hit play. The perp appeared again at the bottom corner, hiding behind the pillar. Calleigh entered the garage, then broke into a clumsy run, yanking the door open and bending over Horatio. Eric managed to bite back the warning this time as the perp came up behind her. She crumpled, and he quickly opened the back door, put her in a bit more carefully than he had handled Horatio, then crossed around the back of the car to the driver's side, started the car, and pulled away.  
  
"He had to catch them off guard," Eric said.  
  
"Yeah. And one at a time." Speed stopped the video and looked back at his friend. "But we never once see the guy's face." The camera was pointing at the rear bumper of the car, and whether by accident or design, the perp had never looked toward it. Even when the car backed out of the space, it had turned the other direction, so that their best chance for a close up only focused on an unconscious Horatio in the passenger's seat. "We can't identify somebody from a back."  
  
"He looks familiar, though, somehow. The way he moves or something rings a bell." Eric frowned, trying to chase the thought down. "Tyler completed the search on all of the people H helped put away. None of them are out within the past three months. No one escaped, no one on parole. He's widening it to six months."  
  
Speed sighed. "Why couldn't he look over, just once?"  
  
Valera entered the room and gave Eric a half smile, but her total focus was on the case. "I finished those tests." She hesitated.  
  
"And?" Speed always hated it when people stopped halfway through a sentence.  
  
"The DNA from the woman's body definitely does not match Calleigh. But the blood at the accident scene does match Horatio."  
  
They looked at each other silently for a minute. "It wasn't much blood," Speed said finally, trying to reassure all of them. "If he was dead, the body wouldn't have been replaced."  
  
"How's it coming?" Alexx entered the room, which was rapidly getting crowded, but none of them cared just then.  
  
Speed rewound the tape again and started from 7:05. Valera could not suppress an agitated squeak when Horatio collapsed. Alexx didn't make a sound, but her eyes spoke for her. Speed and Eric both again fought back the urge to call out a warning. Fast forward to 7:32, and the same performance on all fronts was repeated. "Damn it, why couldn't he look the right way?" Eric pounded one fist into the other in frustration.  
  
"Maybe he touched something in the garage, though," Alexx suggested. "Maybe he just pulled the gloves on right before the abduction. If he wasn't wearing them while waiting, he might have touched something there."  
  
Eric was impressed. "Good thinking. We've got to process that garage, Speed."  
  
"You know how many people must have been through there yesterday and today?" Speed got to his feet while speaking, though. He wasn't objecting, just complaining.  
  
"If we can get fingerprints, we'll have ID. I'm sure this guy has to be in the system. He acts professional."  
  
"First, let me tell you something. I finished the autopsies on those two bodies," Alexx offered. Speed and Eric reluctantly hesitated halfway out the door. Alexx interpreted their expressions easily. "It's the same perp. We might get something there to help us find Horatio and Calleigh. Besides, whoever they were, they were people, too."  
  
Eric turned back to face her, though he still stood in the doorway. "Okay, what did you find?"  
  
"The man was indigent, I think. Severely malnourished, teeth in poor condition. I think he was a homeless man just picked for his general build to match Horatio. He had some old injuries, long healed rib fractures and an old broken radius, but nothing acute. He was unconscious, though. Tox screens did turn up something there. Same thing on the woman's tox screen, but much larger doses with her. It might actually have killed her before the fire. I'd say she had been kept drugged much longer, anyway. Aside from that, there's nothing similar. She was well-nourished, well- developed, and healthy. The remnants of clothes, what little were left, were of much better quality, too. He didn't just pull her off the streets."  
  
"I'll check missing persons reports," Valera said, seizing on the opportunity to be useful. "See if I can match anyone that size."  
  
"And we're going to process that garage," Speed said.  
  
"Wait a minute." Alexx's voice halted them all. "Before that, you all need to get something to eat."  
  
"Alexx." Eric's voice was the age-old protesting your parents' lack of understanding tone.  
  
"We have to keep looking after ourselves, too. It's well past lunch time. Promise me you'll get something to eat before you get back to work."  
  
"Promise," Eric muttered.  
  
Alexx eyed him suspiciously. "Show me your hands." With a sigh, Eric removed his hands with crossed fingers from his pockets. "Now, promise me again."  
  
"I promise," Eric repeated, and Speed and Valera echoed him. Satisfied, Alexx gave Eric a pat on the shoulder, and they all exited the video processing room. Behind them, the image of the car pulling away with its unconscious passengers remained, frozen on the screen.  
  
***  
  
Five hours processing the garage yielded more fingerprints than either Speed or Eric wanted. They lifted them from the pillars and also from the rails on the stairs after Eric discovered transmission and oil leaks on the third floor identical to those at the accident scene. They returned to CSI and settled down with a mountain of evidence, starting to run the fingerprints one by one through AFIS after being forcefed a pizza by Alexx.  
  
"Why do people have to touch everything?" Speed protested as he ran another fingerprint through the system.  
  
"They aren't CSIs." Eric took another lifter from his own stack of evidence envelopes. "We ought to check the tapes from that garage from the third floor, too, since we know where he parked now." Neither of them left the fingerprints to do it, though. This was a much better lead at the moment.  
  
"I was thinking," Speed said, "if H is hurt, that's probably how this perp is keeping him cooperative."  
  
"Yeah," Eric agreed. "He'd kill anybody who touched Calleigh if he was able to. But if he can't get them out, that means they're really counting on us." He silently promised his friends again that he wouldn't fail them.  
  
Speed sorted out his next lifter and loaded the fingerprint. "What the hell?"  
  
"What is it?" Eric walked around the table to look at his friend's work.  
  
"This fingerprint is all jumbled up." Speed frowned at it. "I swear, that's a conglomerate of different ones."  
  
Eric felt an icicle pierce his stomach. "It's surgically altered. Megan and I saw one just like this once. We spent hours sorting it out like a puzzle."  
  
Speed looked back at him. "What case was that?"  
  
"Ruthie Crighton." Eric looked horrified, and the same expression swept into Speed's eyes as he put it together.  
  
"Stewart Otis."  
  
Eric nodded. "Stewart Otis."  
  
Speed instantly turned back to the computer, looking up the old fingerprint from that case, the jumbled one that Eric and Megan had used for their reconstruction. Finding it, he ran a comparison with his current print, and the dreaded words appeared. Positive match.  
  
Eric grabbed for the phone urgently. The conversation was short. He slammed the phone back down with a look of disgust. "The prison swears that Stewart Otis is right there, where he should be."  
  
"All except his fingerprints," Speed retorted. He was mimicking Horatio's style automatically, following the example that he always strove to get closer to, and he and Eric both heard the echo a second after he said it. Their eyes locked in determination. "Let's go, Eric." Together, they left CSI, racing through the gathering night to the prison. To hell with visiting hours.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh woke up from another restless sleep. She glanced over quickly at Horatio, but he seemed to have fallen asleep himself at last. He was uneasy, though, barely under the surface, the tide of pain eroding his chances for much rest. Calleigh lay quietly, not wanting to wake him up. She ran one hand lightly over Rosalind, who seemed to be asleep herself at the moment. The ringing in Calleigh's ears was still there, but when she weighed it against earlier, it didn't seem too much louder. She remembered that she was supposed to return to the doctor if she noticed any change at all. I'll be happy to, she thought. Just let us get out of here. We'll all go straight to a doctor and do everything he says, I promise. It occurred to her that she actually was fulfilling her doctor's command to spend most of her time resting in bed, and she smiled as she imagined his reaction if he knew how she was resting this week.  
  
Horatio shifted again, as if her brief, silent amusement had jolted his sleep. His head turned on the pillow, and he made a small, incoherent sound, but he didn't quite wake up. He was facing her now, and Calleigh was unable to resist reaching out to lightly trace his face as delicately as she could, wishing she could take some of the burden for him. He didn't react to her feather touch, but she did, reaching out to touch him again, more firmly, with a sudden chill numbing her soul.  
  
He was running a fever. 


	4. Complications 4

Chapter 4. See 1 for disclaimers, etc. The final scene in this chapter is my second favorite in Complications. It's as close to fluff as this story gets. We haven't come to my favorite scene yet, but I'm sure you could make a good guess at which scene that is. It will come, just not yet. Be patient.  
  
***  
  
"No man can think himself out of a cell. If he could, there would be no prisoners."  
  
"A man can so apply his brain and ingenuity that he can leave a cell, which is the same thing."  
  
Exchange from the Problem of Cell 13, Jacques Futrelle  
  
***  
  
Horatio sat on the bed with his legs stretched out, his back propped against the wall. Calleigh had removed the towel bandage, and they both surveyed the wound, Horatio seeing it for the first time. It gaped open, and the edges were reddened and definitely inflamed. The leg looked swollen, too, when compared to the other one. Calleigh stared at it as if the sight would change. "I don't know what else to do with it," she said helplessly.  
  
"There's nothing else you can do," Horatio reassured her. Anyone just hearing the voices would have assumed that she was the one injured. "It was already contaminated from the accident, you said. You probably helped a lot by washing some of the dirt out. So it isn't nearly as bad as it would have been otherwise. The team is working on finding us, and they'll get here soon. I'll just have to be on antibiotics for a while after they catch Otis, that's all." He didn't really think it was quite that simple, and the sight of that wound jolted him, too, but he was trying to stay optimistic for them, to steady her. She sounded closer to the edge of panic than she had at any point so far.  
  
Calleigh switched from worrying about the infection to worrying about the obvious angle. "It needs to be set, too. I'm afraid it's going to start healing like that. But I didn't have the strength to pull it straight, Horatio."  
  
"Easy," he said soothingly. She was wringing her cuffed hands together, and he reached out to capture them with his own, stilling her soul with a touch. "That's fixable too. They might have to rebreak it, but I'll survive that." His eyes met hers. "We'll win, Calleigh. We just don't quite know how yet. All three of us are going to be okay, I promise you."  
  
Calleigh knew it was ridiculous, but she actually was comforted somewhat. Believing him was habitual. His steady hands still had their calm strength, even if they felt feverish. She took a deep breath and squeezed them. "I wish you were in a hospital somewhere, but I'm glad you're here with me, Horatio." It was selfish of her, but the thought of being in this alone was overwhelming.  
  
"I'm glad I am, too. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else besides where you are. No matter where that is." He smiled at her. "Just think, when you're in the hospital giving birth after this is all over, I'll be a patient there, too. And we'll still be together."  
  
Calleigh surprised herself by laughing. "I think family hospitalization is taking togetherness too far."  
  
He grinned at her, the quirky smile that she loved, and managed to hide the effort it took. "It beats family abduction."  
  
"Any day," she agreed. Bless you, Horatio, she thought silently. Five minutes ago, she could not have imagined laughing about anything, much less their current situation. She knew that he was trying to relieve some of her tension, but the knowledge didn't stop his efforts from succeeding. The ringing in her ears, which had been on a steady crescendo for the last 30 minutes, slowly eased back down to a low murmur.  
  
Horatio gave her hands a squeeze after a few minutes. "Feeling better?"  
  
"Yes," she said. "I'm the one who ought to be asking you that."  
  
He smiled at her reassuringly but did not answer the implied question. She didn't push him. They both knew the answer, after all. He slid to the edge of the bed, wincing at the movement. "I might as well get cleaned up the best I can before you rewrap it." He stood tentatively.  
  
Calleigh hugged him as far as the cuffs would allow, unobtrusively trying to support him a bit at the same time. His catlike neatness was still healthy, at least. "You're right. No point in letting Otis take our dignity away from us. I'll get cleaned up after you do."  
  
He pulled away from her and leaned on the wall instead, then worked his way along it to the bathroom. He was still considerate as ever, fully aware of her condition. Calleigh weighed him against Otis mentally. He was right. They had to win. Otis simply didn't measure up to Horatio. She rested one hand on her abdomen, thinking of Rosalind. It will be all right, she promised her daughter silently. Your father says it will be all right, and he never lies.  
  
She picked up some clean clothes for him from the pile and took them to him, helping him as much as she could. After he had cleaned up, he stretched out on the bed again, and she rewrapped his leg with a fresh towel, then helped him slip on another pair of pants over the bandage. He was trembling by the time they were done. There was simply no way to bandage the leg without moving it repeatedly. Afterwards, Calleigh sat there next to him silently, holding his hands, comforting him in turn until the pain-wracked body subsided into stillness. His grateful eyes never left her face.  
  
Finally, she gave his hands a final squeeze and stood up. "I'll get cleaned up too, Horatio." He nodded and let his eyes fall shut. Calleigh got fresh clothes for herself and went into the bathroom. Amazing what just taking a bath could do for the human spirit, even if you were limited to working with a large sink and a spray attachment instead of a tub. Feeling a bit better, she went back into the main room.  
  
Horatio was still on the bed and didn't look like he had moved in the last ten minutes. His eyes remained closed. She reached out to rest a hand on his forehead, judging his fever, and the gnawing bite of fear returned. He needed some antibiotics. Where was the team? How much longer would they be prisoners here? Horatio opened his eyes and looked up into her worried ones, and she could see the wheels turning. "What are you thinking, Horatio?"  
  
"You're beautiful," he said simply.  
  
Calleigh almost laughed. She knew that she looked far from her best. On the other hand, so did he, and she suddenly felt overwhelmed with love herself. "So are you," she replied. In every way, body and soul, her mind added.  
  
He captured her hand again, and for a brief moment, they could almost forget the handcuffs and Otis. Then Rosalind shifted, kicking, and her movement brought them back to their predicament. "We will get out of here," he promised again. "All three of us."  
  
Calleigh walked around the bed to lie down next to him. "I know," she said, and silently added, and it had better be soon, for the sake of all three of us. Where was everyone?  
  
***  
  
"That is not Stewart Otis." Speed's voice was definite.  
  
"Of course it is," the warden replied. "Bracelet number, physical description. Everything in the paperwork matches."  
  
"Then the paperwork is wrong," Speed insisted. "I'm telling you, it isn't him." It seemed perfectly obvious to him. The warden must be blind.  
  
Speed and Eric were with the warden outside the visiting room, peering through the window at the man who had been pulled out of his cell and brought down for them. He sat at the table fidgeting, knotting his fingers together like a quitting chain smoker trying not to think about cigarettes.  
  
Eric fought down his frantic urgency and tried to explain coherently. "It's a close resemblance, but the whole attitude is wrong. The eyes . . . " He broke off, trying to pin it down himself, but he couldn't quite get there. One of Otis' main advantages in selecting victims had been looking completely ordinary. This man was similar. Hair, build, anything found in a description matched. Superficially, it was there. But. . . Eric grasped it finally. "He's nervous. See how he's looking around? He's scared about something."  
  
"We just pulled him out of his cell at midnight," the warden pointed out. "Anybody would know something's going on."  
  
"Stewart Otis never looked frightened. Not even at his trial. Never nervous, either. I'm telling you, it's a prisoner switch."  
  
"If Otis had switched with another prisoner and escaped under his name, we would at least know someone was missing. Everybody's accounted for."  
  
Speed had had enough. "To hell with talking about it. Look at his hands. Otis performed surgery on himself to alter all of his fingerprints. His finger pads are scarred."  
  
The warden consulted Otis' file, then nodded. "Okay, we'll look at his fingers. But you're on the wrong trail. No one has escaped from this prison."  
  
Speed jerked the door open before the warden had even finished this speech. He plowed through the gap to the prisoner and grabbed his arm by the wrist, turning the hand over. "Hey!" the man protested. None of them paid any attention. Eric, Speed, and the warden were all looking at the hands, the pristine, unmarred fingertips.  
  
The warden looked back down at his record, reading the fine print at the bottom of the description page. "Oh my God," he said, invoking not the deity but his supervisors. Heads would roll for this. His might well be one of them.  
  
"Where's Otis?" Eric demanded.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about, man. I'm Stewart Otis." Any similarity ended at the voice. This man's was high, squeaky, and tense.  
  
"Cut the crap," Speed said. "We know that's a lie. Where is he?"  
  
The man ran his tongue quickly over his dry lips. "I'm telling you, I'm Otis."  
  
Eric weighed the frantic fear in the man's eyes, a mirror of his own feelings for Horatio and Calleigh. "What does he have on you? Who does he have on you?"  
  
"I. Am. Otis." Each word landed with desperate emphasis. This man was terrified, and it wasn't of them.  
  
Speed took the easy way. "Fine, we'll run your prints. Anyone inside is in AFIS. We'll find out who you are."  
  
The prisoner pulled his hand out of Speed's grasp, folding his fingers together, protecting his prints as the warden stepped to the door and called for a guard. Speed and Eric stood there watching the man. "He has my friends," Eric said fiercely. "If anything happens to them, you're an accomplice."  
  
The man's eyes met his, with a sick fear behind them. "I am Otis," he repeated helplessly.  
  
Speed and Eric gave up and paced the room in tandem while the guard was coming.  
  
***  
  
"Thomas Pendergrass," the warden said, pulling the file. They were all in his office now. "Did time for drug charges and manslaughter. He got addicted and became a meth cook to support his habit, but he wasn't too careful of his ingredients. His drugs killed a bigwig's daughter. He served his time, no problems, and he was released on parole a week and a half ago." He looked back up from the file at Speed and Eric. "Same physical description as Otis, only the hair is a little darker. He must have dyed it to match Otis, and Otis dyed his to match Pendergrass."  
  
Eric wanted to bolt out of the office and forced himself to stay seated, to hear all of the facts. His mind had taken up a chorus that echoed relentlessly. A week and a half. Otis was a week and a half ahead of them.  
  
"What does Otis have on him?" Speed wondered. "Why would he cooperate?"  
  
"Any family?" Eric asked, thinking of that fear in the man's eyes. "Who's next of kin?"  
  
The warden flipped through the file. "A wife, Erica. And a 6-year-old son."  
  
"That's got to be it," Eric said. "Otis is holding his family to buy his cooperation."  
  
"Wait a minute," Speed put in. "If he had the family abducted before Pendergrass was paroled, so he could take his place, that means he's got someone working with him, someone already outside. He's got an accomplice. An accomplice who would abduct a 6-year-old kid to help out a friend."  
  
Eric and Speed both erupted from their chairs then, unable to sit any longer. "I'll process Otis' cell, you process Pendergrass' house," said Eric.  
  
"Right." They nearly collided in the doorway as they charged out of the office. Horatio and Calleigh were out there, and they weren't being held by just Otis but also by another like him. And the lead wasn't just a week and a half. Behind them, in the suddenly quiet office, the warden hesitated, then reluctantly picked up the phone to tell his superiors that a prisoner had escaped a week and a half ago, and he hadn't even noticed.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh came back to the bed holding their two cups, and Horatio accepted his. "Thank you, Calleigh." He sipped the hot tea appreciatively.  
  
Calleigh climbed onto the bed beside him, sitting up, propped against the wall. He sat up himself and gingerly dragged his body back, joining her. "What day is it, Horatio? Do you know?"  
  
He glanced at his watch. "7:30 PM, but I admit, I've lost track on days. Two or three, maybe."  
  
"I'm losing track, too. It seems like forever." She took a sip of her own tea.  
  
"It won't be forever," he replied. "The team is working on this. Right now, they're getting closer." The conviction in his voice wasn't any less. Calleigh studied him while finishing her drink. Other than the fever and the pain in his leg, he really didn't seem too much different from his usual self. He seemed to be being as honest with her as he was with himself, but she wished she could gauge how honest that was. His stubborn will might be deceiving even him about his true condition. They had to get him on antibiotics and get his leg treated. Another growing worry was how little he was eating. He did try to eat for her, but it was obviously an effort to force down every mouthful. Hot tea was about the only thing he really finished off.  
  
He finished his cup now and looked over at her, gauging her in turn with a frown of worry behind the blue eyes. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"That ringing in my ears is louder again," she admitted. "Sounds like a swarm of bumblebees. What about you?"  
  
"I feel like I'm coming down with a virus, but it honestly isn't that bad, Cal. The leg hurting bothers me more. We'll get some antibiotics when we get out, and I'll be fine. Maybe it would help your blood pressure to think about something else for a while." Her expression changed, and he read her thoughts. "That's not letting Rosalind down. There's nothing we can do at the moment, not until the team finds us or Otis comes back in. We've covered all the possibilities in that situation. You accused me once of just running on a mental hamster wheel. I think we're getting close to that here. A break will do us both good."  
  
Calleigh considered it, then finally nodded. "You're right, I guess. But it's easier said than done." She spread her hands slightly, and the cold clink of the handcuffs was heard. "This reality is a little hard to forget."  
  
Horatio rose to the challenge. "What's your favorite memory?"  
  
She smiled, her mind shifting tracks instantly. "It's hard to give a favorite, but the day I met you is right up there. I was looking for something meaningful to throw my life into, some purpose, some way to help people, and you walked into that PD in Louisiana looking for me. I saw you through a door even before I knew you were there for me, and it was magnetic. Partly physical, I admit. But the purpose set you apart. I knew instantly that you were a man who had a purpose. I envied you that, Horatio, before I even knew anything else about you."  
  
He smiled in turn. "I remember when you came into the room to meet me. I couldn't help thinking that you were like a gun yourself, like a handgun. Small but efficient and even deadly when needed. And then the hair. You had it caught up, and I was overcome with this image of setting it free and running my fingers through it. I couldn't get the thought out of my mind. And believe me, I wasn't used to thoughts like that with people. Then, getting to know you through CSI, it was like a dream. It just kept getting better, Cal. Every new aspect of personality I discovered improved the whole picture."  
  
"I felt the same way, Horatio. I lived for working with you, learning more about you, and then I'd go home and dream about you at night. I just didn't realize for years that you wanted more, too."  
  
He gave her an apologetic grin. "Sorry about that. I wanted more from the first second. I was just afraid you would get hurt."  
  
"I know. You had decided you were a jinx on the world." His eyes went distant, remembering all the people close to him who had died, all the reasons he had come to that conclusion. "Don't think about the bad times, Horatio. That isn't much escape for us. What's your happiest memory from childhood? Tell me some of the good ones."  
  
He considered it. "Hard to pick one. There were good moments." His mind seized on one. "Family reading sessions. We were happiest as a family then, I think. Even Ray. Mom liked to have us all read classical literature out loud sometimes in the evenings."  
  
"Ray enjoyed that?" Calleigh wondered. It didn't quite match her picture of Raymond, the younger brother who had never quite felt that he measured up to his sibling, who had never quite found himself, not even through marriage and fatherhood.  
  
"Very much, actually. Especially plays. He was a born actor, Calleigh. He could play a role so well, I think he finally lost himself in them." He hesitated for a moment. "I never could do that. I'm not an actor." He didn't have the ego for it, Calleigh thought. "Mom loved to hear me read passages to her, though."  
  
Calleigh could imagine it. Actor or not, hearing that voice speak some of the world's great lines would be worth buying a ticket for. She suddenly wanted to hear it herself. "Tell me some of them."  
  
He let his mind open the files of the past. "Shakespeare was always Mom's favorite. So much variety there. Love, beauty, ugliness. It amazes me now, working at CSI and seeing all I do, how much Shakespeare knew about human character. He had it all down, Cal. Let's see, the lines. Sometimes, we'd read the preparing for battle speeches. Henry V is the best play there. It has two wonderful pep talks that the king gives the troops. Ray loved those. That play was his favorite."  
  
"What were they?" she prompted him. "Come on, Horatio, I'd really like to hear a few."  
  
"The speech right before the big battle is my favorite in the play. 'He which hath no stomach to this fight, let him depart. His passport shall be made, and crowns for convoy put into his purse. We would not die in that man's company that fears his fellowship to die with us.' The other pep talk was the speech Ray really got into, though. 'Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more.'" He grinned at Calleigh. "He would act it out. Mom and I would both be enthralled watching him. 'When the blast of war blows in our ears, then imitate the action of the tiger. Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood.'" He broke off the recitation with a wince as he stiffened his own sinews automatically while saying it and jolted his leg.  
  
Calleigh winced herself in sympathy. She quickly went on, trying to distract him, as he had been trying to distract her. "What was your mother's favorite love passage, Horatio?"  
  
"That wasn't Shakespeare. Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnet #43. Since meeting you, I don't have any trouble at all remembering that one." He turned his head to feast his eyes on her, gaining inspiration. She waited with a thrill of delicious anticipation, like the moment before the curtain rises. After a second, that rich, velvet, incomparable voice began, with the eyes confirming the matchless words.  
  
"How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height, My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee to the level of every day's Most quiet need, by sun and candle light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints, - I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life – and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death."  
  
Calleigh let out a sigh of pure appreciation. For those brief moments, they had both been transported far beyond their prison. "She knew what it was like."  
  
"Yes. Her husband was a poet as well, quite a good one. Perfect soul mates. They had a remarkable relationship. We'd read his poetry sometimes, too. The night before Mom died, she read one of his poems. Then Ray did the 'once more unto the breach' passage, and she wanted me to read her favorite lines out of Hamlet. Hard to pick one favorite in all Shakespeare, she would say, but that passage was in her top five. She loved it. That was the last thing she ever asked me to read to her." There was pain in his eyes suddenly, emotional as well as physical now.  
  
Calleigh at least could share that pain with him. "What passage was that, Horatio?"  
  
His mind immediately tumbled off the past and landed with a heavy thud back in the present. "I don't really think you'd want to hear that one right now, Calleigh. It's a little too applicable." Concern for her had replaced his memories.  
  
Calleigh suddenly resented his infallible consideration. "I want to hear it, Horatio. If that was the last thing she asked you to read, I want to share that with you. I want to share everything with you, no matter where we are. I refuse to let Otis put up barriers between us."  
  
He gauged her sincerity and finally saluted her with a slight nod, accepting her equality in their situation. He gathered himself, and Calleigh was silent, giving him time. Finally, quietly, he began. "There is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come. The readiness is all. Since no man has aught of what he leaves, what is't to leave betimes? Let be."  
  
The silence lengthened for a few minutes, and then Horatio's voice started again, stronger, defiant. "But there is a difference between accepting the will of providence and surrendering to Otis. We are not going to surrender to Otis, and he is not getting Rosalind."  
  
"Right," said Calleigh. "You said it yourself. We'll win." She reached out, closing the distance between them to grasp his hands, and jumped as her fingers locked around his. His fever was steadily rising. 


	5. Complications 5

Chapter 5. See Chapter 1 for all the required fine print.  
  
I'm working overtime this weekend and don't have Monday off as usual, but I stayed up late to give you another chapter, so don't kill me for where I ended this one. I absolutely promise, things are about to start to happen. Returning to the roller coaster metaphor, we're almost to the top of the big hill.  
  
***  
  
"Every prisoner has one friend outside who would help him escape if he could."  
  
Jacques Futrelle, "The Problem of Cell 13"  
  
***  
  
Speed was in a hurry, and of course, the traffic sensed it and turned busier than usual. With the Ducatti, he could swerve in and out of lanes more easily than the cars could, but even the stoplights had joined the conspiracy, never failing to change to red just as he approached. He plowed to a reluctant halt at yet another light and sat there impatiently drumming his fingers, willing it to change.  
  
He was late. Nothing too unusual about that, but to be late on this day, on this case, was unforgivable. Furthermore, it was entirely his fault. Last night, when he had finally returned to CSI after spending all day processing the Pendergrass house, he had encountered Alexx on a mission. She had insisted that they all go home and get some sleep. Speed and Eric had been going for 36 hours straight then, have spent all night before at the prison, and Alexx chased them both out, providing a pill to each which she said would guarantee 8 hours rest. Their exhaustion only made them protest more vigorously that they were fine, but Alexx won that round, even though Speed and Eric together outweighed her by three times. They finally left, but Speed hadn't taken the pill when he got to his apartment, figuring he was tired enough to sleep without it and wanting to get an early start this morning. He was wrong. After hours of tossing and turning, doing things to his pillow that he would like to do to Otis, he gave up and took the pill. Then, of course, he slept straight through the alarm clock and didn't wake up until 10:00. He had slept through the phone, too, but there were two messages on the machine from Eric.  
  
The light changed, and Speed took off. Finally, the last turn to CSI came into sight ahead. He parked the Ducatti in the garage and entered CSI, wondering who would be the first to ask.  
  
"Late this morning, aren't you?" Tyler said.  
  
"No, everyone else's watch is wrong. Where's Delko?"  
  
"Audio processing room."  
  
Speed headed that way and found Eric frowning at the equipment. He looked back at the sound of footsteps. "Where have you been?"  
  
"Sitting at stoplights," Speed grumbled.  
  
"For three hours?"  
  
"I overslept, okay? Let's talk about something that matters. What did you get?"  
  
Eric instantly switched back to the case. "Otis' cell turned up a lot of fingerprints. Tyler's running them for me, but they're probably just from Otis and Pendergrass. Two big things were hidden, though. One is this section of newspaper. It was stuck way back under the mattress." He handed it to Speed, opened to an article.  
  
Speed read it. The article was on the recent conviction of a mass murderer. One paragraph was boxed with precise, neat lines, but the force of the pen had nearly torn the paper. "The star witness at the trial was Calleigh Caine, ballistics expert from CSI. In spite of being 7 ½ months pregnant, she is still pursuing criminals with as much vigor as ever, and this conviction is yet another addition to the long string of cases which have been closed in large part due to her efforts and those of her husband, the head of CSI, Lieutenant Horatio Caine." The words Horatio Caine had been canceled out with a vicious horizontal slash of the pen. Earlier, 7 ½ months pregnant had been circled, and in the margin was a neat impromptu calendar, marking off remaining days and weeks for January and February, with the entire last week of February circled and a question mark on each side of it. Speed looked back up at Eric, whose expression mirrored his. Absolute disgust, overlaid with fear.  
  
"That's when he started planning it," Speed said. "I'd like to have a talk with this reporter."  
  
"Wouldn't change anything now," Eric pointed out. "Let's focus on Otis. So he saw this article and started planning how to get out. Checked parole hearings coming up and found someone who might pass for him if nobody really looked, then had his family kidnapped." Eric turned back to the tape equipment. "Listen to this. It's almost worse than the article. I found a mini tape player in a sealed plastic bag hidden in the toilet tank. This is the tape from it. Several others, too, but they're all similar."  
  
Otis' voice suddenly filled the room. "Aaron, say hi to your daddy now."  
  
A small, frightened voice took over. "Hi, Daddy."  
  
"Tell him you're okay."  
  
"I'm okay, Daddy, but I'm scared. I don't like this man. He's got me tied up."  
  
"Tell him I haven't hurt you, Aaron." A pause. "Tell him. Now."  
  
"He hasn't done anything but shut me up, but the ropes hurt my hands. I don't like it here."  
  
"That'll do nicely, Aaron. Good job." There was the rattle of keys and a door closing. "Okay, Pendergrass, you heard the kid. He's all right, but he's scared. He's counting on you. As long as you play your cards right, nothing will happen to him or your wife. The minute the word gets out, you'll have eternity to wish things were different. I'll send you another tape in two days, as usual. Goodbye, Pendergrass." The tape clicked off.  
  
Eric clenched his fists in frustration. "That inhuman monster."  
  
Speed nodded. "He'll get the death penalty this time. Two murders, three abductions. No way he'll get off."  
  
"I just wish I could pull the switch on him myself," Eric said fiercely.  
  
"What do you think on releasing the story? Putting out an APB on all media for Otis?"  
  
Eric had been debating that one, and he didn't like his reluctant conclusion. "I honestly think we'd be signing the death warrant for all of them. It's not like Otis is going to be careless, anyway. One thing from this tape, I've been trying to isolate any background noise at all. There's absolutely nothing. No traffic, no other voices. No sound of the city. Wherever his hideout is, I don't think the public walks right by it. I think we'd do as much with just law enforcement, and Horatio and Calleigh and Aaron would have a better chance at being alive when we find them."  
  
"You're probably right."  
  
Eric looked back at him. "What about Pendergrass' house?"  
  
"Fingerprints galore, and half the chairs in the kitchen were turned over. That's where he got them. I've got a whole stack of fingerprints and hairs and such to process. Let's hope the accomplice wasn't wearing gloves."  
  
Eric looked away from his friend, back at the tape equipment. "How did we ever miss the fact that he had an accomplice? He couldn't have driven both cars to the accident scene. We should've known the first day, even if Otis was the only one who left footprints. I guess the other guy just was lookout on the road."  
  
That was partly what Speed had been discussing with his pillow the first half of the night. "We just missed it. We weren't thinking straight, I guess."  
  
"That's no excuse," Eric pointed out.  
  
"I know. I've been kicking myself for it, too." Speed changed the subject back to something useful. "I'll check the hairs from that scene, but it only looked like two donors, and from the pictures, it was the wife and kid. Maybe the accomplice has hair the same color, though. The woman really fought for such a little thing. From the pictures of the family together, she wasn't any bigger than Calleigh."  
  
Eric's head snapped up a fraction of a second before Speed's did. "That woman. Alexx said she wasn't homeless."  
  
"And she wasn't on the tape, just the kid."  
  
Both of them bolted for Trace.  
  
***  
  
Pendergrass stared at them in shock. "Erica's dead?"  
  
"That's right," Eric said. "She and Aaron were captured in your kitchen, and we've matched DNA samples from her to the body we found. Otis killed her. Her voice hasn't been on any tape you've received, has it?"  
  
The eyes were still unfocused, staring into the past, trying to remember her face. "Otis swore he wouldn't harm them if I'd cooperate."  
  
Speed snorted. "And you believed him? A convicted murderer and child molester?"  
  
Eric leaned across the interview table, trying to jar this man out of shock with the urgency of the situation. "Listen, we're sorry about your wife, but your son is still alive. And our friends. Otis has them. We aren't putting word out on the media, so he doesn't realize we know it's him. But you have to help us. You can still make a difference for Aaron."  
  
The eyes finally focused. "I killed her," he said. "I should have reported it instantly."  
  
Speed forced himself not to voice his agreement. "Come on, talk to us now. It's not too late for your son."  
  
Pendergrass swallowed with difficulty and finally began. "Otis came to me about a week before the parole hearing. He already had the first tape. Not Erica's voice, just Aaron, but he said he had both of them."  
  
"How? Did he ever mention a name? Who he knew on the outside who took them?"  
  
"No. Just called him a friend. He said that if I didn't cooperate, his friend would kill Erica." He broke off. "I can't even describe what he said would happen to Aaron. He said that in a few weeks, he'd let them go and let the word get out that he'd escaped, so I wouldn't have to stay in prison."  
  
"It never occurred to you that aiding a prison escape is a crime itself? You wouldn't have just been set free."  
  
Pendergrass met Eric's eyes desperately. "They are . . . were . . . my family. They're the one thing I've done right in my life, and Erica was waiting for me, she said. She was going to give me a second chance, once I got out. We were going to be a family again. I wasn't thinking of myself, just them."  
  
Eric again saw a mirror of his own feelings for Horatio and Calleigh. He pitied this man even while he was angry at him. "I know what you mean. How do you get the tapes?"  
  
"I'm not sure. They always arrive in my cell when I'm not in it. They will just be there, under the pillow when there's a new one. I guess he's got a guard working for him, too, or another prisoner, or somebody."  
  
Speed perked up. "Maybe there's a fingerprint on the tape, Eric."  
  
Eric shook his head. "Nothing. Not even Otis'. Everybody wears gloves."  
  
Speed shook his head in frustration. "Damn."  
  
Eric suddenly snapped to attention himself. "Wait a minute. We never checked the third floor garage videos. If the accomplice came to pick up Otis' car later, after Otis called him to say he had Horatio and Calleigh, maybe he wasn't wearing gloves all that time, like Otis, and touched something. We never finished running all of those prints. We stopped at Otis."  
  
In unison, Eric and Speed jumped up and left the interview room. Behind them, Pendergrass still sat at the table, seeing faces projected on the wall by his memory. His wife and his son. His family. Pendergrass buried his head in his hands on the table and broke down crying.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh woke up again, reluctantly, feeling pinned down to the bed by her heavy body. As much time as she had spent in bed since their capture, she shouldn't keep getting more tired, but she was. It was almost like sleeping in reverse, waking up further behind on rest than you started. The ever-present low hum in her ears was there, but at least it wasn't too annoying at the moment. It was softer than it had been.  
  
She turned to check on Horatio. He was asleep again, too, or as near as he got to it anymore, uneasily hovering just beneath consciousness, pain and illness both gnawing at his rest. She knew he was feeling more tired all the time, too, but he had an excuse for it. She reached out to touch him softly. The fever was still there, creeping higher like a forest fire threatening to flare out of control.  
  
With a surge of anger at Otis, Calleigh found strength to push her unwieldy bulk up to a sitting position. Horatio shifted, muttered something, and settled down restlessly again. Calleigh reached down to where she had left a bottle of water on the floor next to the bed. Finding it, she removed the cap and took a long drink. She looked at her watch. 6:30 PM on whatever day this was. It was time for them to eat again. She was reluctant to disturb Horatio, though, not wanting to shatter what little escape he had found. She decided to wait until 7:00.  
  
Just as she was recapping the bottle of water, she heard the soft footsteps approach and stop outside the door again. There was no further sound, but the intensity of his listening reached into the room. Seized with defiant fury, Calleigh suddenly fired the three-quarters full bottle of water at the door, hoping against hope that it would pierce the door like a bullet and kill her enemy. It didn't, but a loud thud echoed through the room as the bottle hit the metal door. Horatio came bolt upright, his startled eyes sweeping the room frantically. "Calleigh!"  
  
Calleigh grabbed him instantly, pulling him against her chest, holding his head between her cuffed hands. "Shhh. It's okay, Horatio," she said softly. Then Otis' laughter began. A low chuckle, it reached through the barrier of the door effortlessly and wrapped around them, chaining them like the cuffs. Calleigh wished she had something else to throw, but her hands were busy just then, anyway. Horatio was still agitated, and she wouldn't have let go of him even if she had had another missile to hand. She held him, trying to cover his ears so that he, at least, would be spared that madman's amusement. Finally, the laughter stopped, and shortly after that, the footsteps retreated with a calm patience, the stride unhurried and confident.  
  
Calleigh held Horatio tightly, murmuring small reassuring sounds, almost like she was talking to Rosalind. Gradually, his breathing settled down as he rested against her solid presence. Finally, he pulled away from her a bit so he could scan her face. "Are you okay, Cal?"  
  
"Fine. Everything's fine." It wasn't, of course, but it was her turn to steady them. He had been really rattled for a few minutes there.  
  
He leaned against her again, relaxing. "I thought he had shot you."  
  
Guilt slammed into her like a bullet itself. "I'm sorry, Horatio. I didn't mean to scare you. I just threw a bottle of water at Otis. That was the noise. Not a gun."  
  
A faint smile twisted his lips. "Did you hit him?"  
  
"I would have, if the door hadn't gotten in the way." She pulled him more tightly against her. "I'm sorry, Horatio. I wasn't thinking. I won't do it again."  
  
His words were muffled against her. "Throw anything at him you like, but wake me up first next time, so I can watch."  
  
She chuckled herself. "I'll do that." Odd how laughter could be such a weapon from one source and so refreshing from another. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Sick," he admitted. He straightened up suddenly, pulling away from her again and half lying back down, propped on one elbow where he could see her face. "There's a thought. Maybe I actually am, Calleigh. Maybe I've picked up a bug from somewhere else days ago, and this isn't the leg at all."  
  
She would have liked to think so, but she didn't really believe it any more than he did. "I ought to look at that leg again, to check on it and rewrap it."  
  
His elbow prop fell out from under him, and he sank into the bed. "Do we have to?"  
  
Calleigh abruptly realized that he had probably jolted his leg severely jumping up like that. It must be giving him hell already, and she knew that rebandaging it hurt worse than anything else. His remark hadn't been a protest, though, just a question, deferring to her. The implication that he would accept further pain without complaint on her say so did her in. "No, I guess not. It's not like I can actually do anything for it."  
  
"We're running short on towels, anyway. Otis didn't plan for us to be using them as bandages."  
  
Calleigh smiled slightly. "I believe you notice everything, Horatio. I hadn't seen that."  
  
He smiled back at her, then shivered slightly. "There's not a thermostat in here, is there?"  
  
"No." There was central heating, obviously, but the controls were elsewhere. One thing Otis hadn't provided them with was a stack of blankets, although the room had been kept at a comfortable temperature. "Why don't you try just putting on another shirt, Horatio? That'll give you two layers." She fetched one and help him button it on. "Any better?"  
  
He nodded. "Some. Thank you, Calleigh." He lay back down again.  
  
"We ought to eat again, too. It's almost 7:00." He didn't respond, either in agreement or in protest, and she got up and heated another can of soup in their two bowls. As she came back to the bed, he reluctantly pulled himself back up to sit against the wall. Eating a bowl of soup while wearing handcuffs involved holding it right under your chin, and it was much harder lying down. She handed him his. "I'll make us some tea in a little bit, but let's eat this first."  
  
He nodded. "Can't hold too many things at once. Never realized how much handcuffs limit you. I have new sympathy for criminals." His eyes flickered to the door. "For some criminals."  
  
"Right. Eat that while it's hot, Horatio, as much as you can." They both fell silent, the only sound in the room the regular, soft clank of the chains on their cuffs. Calleigh decided that she would hate the sound of chains for the rest of her life. She hoped she had a long time to hate it. He managed to finish at least two-thirds of the soup, pretty good for him these days. She didn't push him for more, though. The effort was too obvious. She knew he was eating as much as he could. She set the bowls aside and fixed them each a cup of tea.  
  
"How are you feeling?" he asked her.  
  
"Worn out. I sleep, but nothing touches the tired spot."  
  
"I know exactly what you mean," he said. "What about Rosalind?"  
  
"I think she's getting tired, too. She's still moving around the last day or so, but just gently, like she's half asleep herself."  
  
"How about that ringing?"  
  
"Still there, no worse. It's a little better actually."  
  
"Good." He finished his tea, and she took the cups and the bowls and went into the bathroom, washing them in the sink. She surveyed their towel selection. Horatio was right; they were running low. They could start reusing some of them, maybe, the ones that hadn't been made into bandages. She picked up a washrag and soaked it in cold water, then wrung it out and took it with her back into the main room.  
  
Horatio was lying down flat again, his eyes closed, but she knew he wasn't asleep. He was too still. He was never still when he was asleep anymore. She climbed into bed next to him, pulled him over against her, and draped the folded washrag across his forehead. He shifted slightly, reacting to the coolness, but didn't open his eyes. "Does that feel any better?" she asked.  
  
"Mmm hmm. Thanks, Calleigh." She lay there holding him, watching him, assessing him. The washrag quickly lost its coolness against his skin, and Calleigh shot an arrow prayer toward the team. Please, wherever you are, hurry.  
  
***  
  
Adele was firmly, efficiently in command, refusing to rush past the precautions. "Okay, we'll have the building surrounded with officers. Our watches are synchronized. 9:00 sharp, and we move in." The various officers nodded and branched out, fading into the darkness silently to surround the residence of Lorenzo Rodriguez, drug dealer and murderer paroled six months ago. His fingerprints were on the railing on the stairs in the garage, and he himself, with a good shot of the face this time, was on camera retrieving Otis' car from the third floor at 8:00 PM on the night of the abduction.  
  
Adele glanced behind her at Eric and Speed, who hovered close. "Let's not get careless here."  
  
"No worries," Speed said and again heard himself unconsciously imitating Horatio. Eric didn't say anything, just looked at the house like his vision could burn through the walls.  
  
9:00 arrived. The trio erupted from their bush and hit the door with Adele in the lead, gun ready. "Miami-Dade police!"  
  
Similar shouts echoed through the house as the other members of the team burst in, and suddenly, there was gunfire from a back room. Adele charged that way, Eric and Speed right on her heels, but the battle died as suddenly as it had started. An officer was standing over a man on the floor, still cautiously holding his gun ready. He didn't look at Adele, didn't take his eyes off Rodriguez, but he started speaking as soon as he heard her. "He shot Carpenter. Just grazed him, but he was still shooting. I had to take him down."  
  
Adele nodded. "We've got to protect each other." She knelt by Rodriguez, assessing the widening red splotch on his chest. She gripped his arm, and the eyes opened. "Rodriguez, where's Stewart Otis?" He just looked back at her. She repeated the question in Spanish, but she knew he had understood. The eyes were mocking her, mocking the pain, mocking his own death even as he saw it coming, refusing to surrender. Adele gripped him harder. "Where is Otis?"  
  
He moistened his lips with his tongue and practically spat the one word at her with his last energy. "Guess." The eyes suddenly shifted past her to something else and then froze in a startled expression. He had never actually thought it could happen to him. He had been wrong.  
  
Adele stood up and actually kicked the body in frustration. She swore under her breath in Spanish as she looked down at the frozen eyes. Rodriguez had known where Otis was, but his knowledge had died with him. 


	6. Complications 6

See Chapter 1 for disclaimers, etc. Please forgive any typos, as this was typed down at warp speed after I got off work and hasn't been proofread. My whole week has turned upside down since noon today and developed all sorts of complications of its own, the two biggest involving the death of a family friend today on one hand (not unexpected; she's been dragging on for months and just suffering, so I'm glad for her, actually) and my grandfather in the nursing home on the other, with all sorts of bonus travel and still seeing to the animals complications. I'll still try for February 27th to finish Complications, but I can almost guarantee nothing more for the rest of this week.  
  
***  
  
"In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility; But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger: Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood."  
  
William Shakespeare, Henry V  
  
***  
  
The days melted together into one conglomerate of frustration. Speed sat in front of the CSI computer, tracking down another possibility for a lead that he suddenly knew would disintegrate into ashes like all of their other leads had. He wasn't even sure what day this was anymore. Life had condensed to this computer screen in front of him, punctuated by Alexx making them eat or leave to sleep for a few hours. There had been a few other punctuations, too, moments when they briefly thought they had the answer and it once again fell apart just as they were about to get their hands on it.  
  
They had planted a tiny camera in Otis' cell hoping to catch the next tape delivery, and it worked perfectly. So the whole team had barreled over to the prison to question a security guard caught on tape. He was cooperative enough, once threatened by his supervisor, but he knew nothing. He had gambling debts. He had been approached through the mail offering him $500 per tape to deliver them under the pillow in that cell. The tapes and the $500 were mailed to his house. He had never talked to anyone, never knew what was on the tapes, had no more info. The CSIs had retrieved his latest envelope from his trash, only to discover that it had been mailed at a main Post Office in Miami, like thousands of other pieces of mail that day. A second envelope recovered had been mailed from another location entirely, just as anonymously. No trace that helped them was on the envelopes or the money. They did recover Otis' fingerprints on the money. So they now knew that Otis was behind this, which they had known anyway. Dead end.  
  
The only other possibility was processing Rodriguez's life. His house had yielded drugs and pornography, but the CSIs didn't care about either just then. No clue to Otis' whereabouts. Processing his car had given them nothing. They had obtained credit card records, phone records, and bank account records on Rodriguez, as well as running his name through every database they could think of looking for any location, any remote and quiet location, that he had any connection to. He had kidnapped the family before Otis had gotten out, so he had almost certainly been the one to set up the hiding place where the hostages were held. Three times, Speed and Eric had thought that they had it and gone bolting off like the cavalry with Adele and reinforcements to some remote spot. Three times, they had been disappointed.  
  
So now, Speed sat in front of the computer again, chasing another ghost lead. This is pointless, a voice in his mind told him. The guy probably paid in cash and used an assumed name. You won't find it through Visa. The trouble was, there was nothing else left to try. Speed wasn't working any less diligently on the case, but that nagging voice was getting to him, whispering that this would all be futile, just like so many things in his life had been. He felt guilty for the thoughts, even though he hadn't let them affect his work. It was like he was letting Horatio and Calleigh down. He suddenly wished that he could be the prisoner and them outside looking for him, not only for their sake but to increase the chances that Otis would be found and taken down, his power to hurt taken away permanently. Speed might try to imitate Horatio's example, but he knew he could never match it. Horatio was ahead of him in so many ways. The best chance of Otis being brought to justice would be if Horatio had been here at CSI running the search.  
  
He wished it could happen. He knew it couldn't happen. He felt guilty for getting discouraged about the case. And all the while, his fingers kept punching in the keys, tracking another ghost lead through the databases.  
  
***  
  
Horatio woke up abruptly, gasping for air, feeling momentarily like he could not breathe. The feeling passed, but his ears were ringing, and his heart felt like it was turning somersaults in his chest. He lay quietly, as still as he could, breathing deeply and evenly. Who ever heard of feeling dizzy while you were lying down? Gradually, the shaky feeling subsided, and the room steadied around him. He realized suddenly that his clothes were wet, absolutely drenched in sweat. He was starting to shiver now as the wet garments hugged his skin. He had finally managed to get sound asleep, but the waking up was hardly worth it.  
  
He turned his head cautiously, but the dizziness had passed. Calleigh lay beside him, her blonde hair falling halfway across her face. She was absolutely sound asleep, breathing deeply and peacefully, and he was glad for her. She hadn't been sleeping worth anything, either, worrying about him. The past however many days it had been were hardly what the doctor had ordered. She looked tired, and there were shadows under her eyes. Her cuffed hands were clasped protectively across her abdomen in her sleep. He wanted to join his with hers in promise to Rosalind that they would protect her somehow, but he didn't want to wake Calleigh up.  
  
He suddenly realized that he might well wake Calleigh up anyway if he stayed here. He was shivering uncontrollably now. Better get out of these wet clothes and try to warm himself up. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed stealthily, trying not to wake her. She was deeply asleep and did not move. Horatio stood on his good leg and bit his lip to avoid crying out as a tidal wave of pain crashed into him. His left toes had barely touched the ground, not taking weight, just aiding balance, but it felt like someone had sharpened the dagger stuck into the bottom of his leg. It hadn't hurt nearly this much to stand earlier. He held the foot entirely off the ground, and that was a little better. He took two hops to the wall and braced himself against it, then worked his way around the room to the pile of clothes. Bending to get fresh clothes made the dizziness return. There was a swirling black whirlpool in the back of his mind. He leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, and reminded himself that if he fell over, he would certainly wake Calleigh. The whirlpool shrank obediently. He turned and worked back around the room as quietly as he could to the bathroom, swinging the door gently shut so the sound of water would not awaken her. She was still sound asleep.  
  
The hot water felt good, and the shiver fits gradually slowed and stopped. He cleaned up as much as he could, trying to warm up at the same time. Just getting the wet clothes off had been a great improvement. He even took time to shave, enjoying the hot water against his skin. He was feeling better by the time he finished. He pulled on fresh clothes but did not really look at his leg or unbandage it. Just bending over enough to pull his pants on made that whirlpool spin faster. He managed to prop himself against the sink enough to get his good leg into the pants without taking weight on the bad one. When he finished dressing, he leaned against the wall for several minutes. The room was pleasantly steamy now, and he felt warmer. Finally, he opened the door gently again. Calleigh was still sound asleep. He worked his way to the bed again and lay down. This was much better. Not nearly as cold now as before. Calleigh made a soft sound and snuggled down against him without waking up, and he pressed against her, being careful not to jolt his leg. Even better. He felt delightfully warm now, almost sleepy. Even the pain had retreated somewhat. He couldn't let himself rest, though, much as he suddenly wanted to. He lay there with his eyes open and thought through their situation.  
  
Something had to be done, and soon. He knew that he needed antibiotics and treatment for his leg, but it was Calleigh who worried him more. He sensed her time approaching, and he vowed fiercely to himself that he would protect her and Rosalind. Otis would never get his daughter. The next time Otis came in here, Horatio would tackle him, would force an opening if he had to. If he died in the attempt, he would at least make sure that he disabled Otis, preferably dragging his enemy down to death along with him. Then Calleigh and Rosalind would be safe, at least. There were no remaining options. The team had not found them, and they could not wait any longer. It was up to him. He remembered Belle King, and an hourglass suddenly appeared, hovering just over him on the bed. He eyed it with mild curiosity, but it seemed somehow natural that it should be there. Maybe it had been there all along, and he just hadn't noticed it until now. The thing that mattered was that the sands in it were running out. He had to act. The trouble was, Otis had not been in the room for several days. They had both lost track of time, but they knew it had been several days. He has to come, Horatio told himself. He has to come to take Rosalind, even if he doesn't come before. And when he comes, I'll be ready.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh woke up slowly, hazily, at first not remembering where she was. She felt weighed down with lassitude. She stretched slightly, and the handcuffs clanked, bringing it all back. She considered closing her eyes and ignoring reality again, to see if she could recapture her pleasant dreams. It was Horatio who decided it for her. They were pressed tightly against each other, and she suddenly realized that he felt even more feverish than he had before. She looked over at him worriedly. He had apparently gotten soundly to sleep himself at last, and she was glad. He'd hardly slept at all since they had been here. He seemed totally out now, though. She reached across and placed her hand on his forehead, trying not to let the handcuffs clank too much. He never stirred. His fever had definitely gone higher.  
  
Calleigh removed her hand and settled back, chewing her lip in worry. They absolutely had to get him to a doctor. He needed some antibiotics, the sooner the better. But what options were there? They could try breaking down the door. She shook her head, picturing it. Him fighting an infection and on one leg and her nine months pregnant. The door would probably laugh at them, if it noticed at all. Waiting for the team wasn't getting them anywhere, apparently. The only other option was tackling Otis, but she couldn't tackle Otis herself without hurting her daughter. Horatio could hardly stand, let alone fight, and his capabilities were decreasing by the hour. God, she prayed, help us. Something has to change.  
  
Something did change, but it hardly seemed an answer to prayer just then. Every muscle across her abdomen tightened up suddenly, and she recognized it as a contraction. Not yet, she whispered. Please, Rosalind, not yet. This world isn't safe to be born into right now. It seemed sharper and longer than it should have been for an early one. Calleigh had broken out into a sweat, and she clutched Horatio's hand tightly, unable to stop herself. He shifted slowly, then opened his eyes, then opened them wider. "Cal, is it. . ."  
  
The spasm passed. "It's a contraction," she confirmed. "First one, but it sure was a strong one."  
  
"She can't be born yet." His voice was taut with worry.  
  
"I know. Not now."  
  
Their eyes met each other with frantic concern. They lay there in silence. The time for words had passed. Horatio saw the hourglass appear over the bed again, vivid enough to touch if he tried, but he didn't try. The sands had almost run out.  
  
***  
  
The lock rattled, startling Calleigh. She had imagined the sound so often and been proven wrong that it took her a minute to realize that this was real. She and Horatio had just been lying there, thinking and praying, not speaking. No more contractions had come, at least. Maybe that one was just a lone advance scout.  
  
The door swung open, and Otis entered. "How are we doing?" he inquired almost courteously. Calleigh wanted to claw his eyes out suddenly. Damn his shell of courtesy and consideration. Hank Kerner, for all his faults, had not falsely advertised who he was to the world.  
  
"Fine, but I'm afraid we've got a long way to go," she lied. "Nothing happening at all yet, is there, Horatio?"  
  
He didn't answer, and Calleigh wrenched her eyes away from Otis to look at him. His eyes were closed. Incredibly, he had managed to get to sleep again. Of course, she knew how exhausted and worn down by pain he was. Still, he ought to be aware of this. She shook him gently. No response. She shook him harder. He wasn't usually this hard to rouse. "Horatio," she hissed urgently. "Wake up. Otis is here." His eyes slowly opened, looking totally disoriented for a moment. He usually woke up instantly, like a well-oiled machine switching on. It was odd for his eyes to look so foggy. Of course, he was hardly at his best right now. "Wake up, Horatio." He finally managed to focus on her, then shifted to Otis as the man spoke.  
  
"He doesn't look too good." Otis came to that side of the bed to study him with satisfaction. "I think this is working out nicely. I'm glad I didn't shoot you, Horatio. It would have just wasted a bullet, and you might have died too soon. You have to see things happen before you die. That's my revenge."  
  
"He isn't dying," Calleigh insisted fiercely. "He just needs a few antibiotics, and he'll be fine." Suddenly, a fierce contraction hit her, and she fell back against the bed, gasping, her entire body seizing up. Horatio's eyes went back to her, and the last of the fog abruptly dissipated. They looked fully aware now.  
  
Otis studied Calleigh with eager, twisted anticipation. "Not much longer now," he said. "Soon, I'll finally have one for my very own, and no one will ever take her away. I'll love her. My own daughter." He smiled at the thought and turned to leave the room again.  
  
Like a jungle cat springing onto its prey, Horatio launched himself from the bed with the strength of absolute desperation. Otis had his back turned, not expecting anything from either of his hostages at this point, and Horatio landed on his shoulders and somehow, in the split second of frozen shock before response, managed to get his handcuffed hands over Otis' head and pull the connecting chain back against his throat. He locked both hands together behind the neck, tightening the pressure, and held on for dear lives – Calleigh's and Rosalind's, not his own. Otis was almost knocked over by the initial impact but never quite lost his feet, and now he fought back like a rodeo bull. He whipped around, slamming Horatio into the wall, clawing desperately at the chain that bit into his throat. The gun had been knocked loose from his hand by Horatio's initial pounce, and now it was kicked under the bed in the mad struggle. Horatio clung to him like an animal, holding nothing back, throwing body and soul into the effort, channeling all the fury he had ever felt for this man and his kind. None of the blows he took against the wall seemed to faze him. There was only Otis. His enemy could not shake him loose. Otis suddenly switched tactics and grabbed Horatio's left leg with his own left hand, twisting it around in front of him, making a sickening third joint halfway between knee and ankle.  
  
Calleigh to this point had been utterly frozen on the bed, first by the contraction but then oddly in appreciation. There was a primal magnificence in this struggle which she knew had her as its prize, and she was spellbound for a second in spite of herself. That second ended when Otis twisted Horatio's leg around. Horatio did not cry out, in fact barely reacted at all. His entire being was focused into his hands just then. It was Calleigh who yelped in sympathetic pain. She pushed herself off the bed, looking desperately for any weapon, trying to help without getting too close, torn between her duties to Rosalind and to Horatio. The gun was out of reach. Finding nothing better to hand, she caught up the shaving cream from the bathroom and squirted it directly into Otis' eyes.  
  
Otis released Horatio's leg and started pawing at his eyes instead. His whirlwind crashing around the room suddenly became much less directed, and Horatio seized the opportunity to catch his good leg against the wall and push off behind him unexpectedly, sending them both crashing into the corner of the bed. The collision knocked Otis down with Horatio on top. Horatio's sure hands shifted slightly, reaching around with his fingers, finding the carotid arteries running along each side of the neck. He clamped down on them, shutting off the blood supply to the brain, and held with everything he had left in him. Otis flopped like a fish out of water across the floor, but he couldn't shake his attacker loose. His struggles grew progressively weaker, and finally, he gave one ultimate convulsive jerk and lay still.  
  
Horatio at first didn't realize that it was over. The roaring black whirlpool in the back of his mind had expanded, threatening to suck him down. His vision had ducked behind increasing shadows. He felt utterly disconnected from the world, the only point of contact with reality his fingers. He grew still in response as Otis did, but his hands still clamped down, like a bulldog not comprehending how to release.  
  
Calleigh put down the shaving cream and crossed the room as quickly as she could manage in her condition. Horatio's face was absolutely gray, and his eyes were closed, which she thought must be in reaction to the pain. She knelt beside him, and it was Horatio whose pulse she checked first, not Otis. At that point, another powerful contraction tightened like a steel band around her body and mind, and she only registered that Horatio was still alive and didn't notice how fast and irregular his pulse actually was.  
  
Horatio felt the contraction as she knelt next to him on the floor. It was the first thing other than his hands that he felt. Calleigh. Calleigh still needed him. He fought the whirlpool, heaving himself back out over the edge of it, though it still gaped ominously beneath him. The veil of shadows lifted reluctantly from his eyes. Slowly his fingers released their death grip. Otis did not move. Horatio stiffly worked his hands free over Otis' neck and reached for Calleigh, rubbing her back gently. The contraction gradually subsided, and her concerned eyes focused on his. "Are you okay, Horatio?"  
  
"Yes," he said. "You need a doctor. Let's get out of here." He stood up, forgetting the leg, and totally fell over as he tried to take a normal step on it. The pain returned abruptly, searing him like a branding iron. Calleigh was beside him instantly, helping him up.  
  
"You're the one who needs a doctor. Come on, Horatio, try to get to the bed." With her trying to take his weight and him trying not to let her, they lurched in each other's arms as far as the bed and more or less fell across it. They lay there together in exhausted victory for several minutes. Calleigh was the first one to move, sitting up, straightening him carefully out, cringing herself as she was forced to move his leg. She propped the pillow underneath his head. He was sweating, and his muscles were locked even tighter than hers had been during contractions as he fought the pain. She pulled his head against her leg and stroked his hair softly until the knotted cords of his muscles finally started to unravel a bit. Calleigh then bent over and kissed him gently, as if worried even that might hurt him.  
  
"Horatio, I'm going to see if Otis has the handcuff key with him. You just lie here and rest a minute." He nodded without opening his eyes, and she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and pushed herself off the bed. She hated to touch Otis, feeling like she was soiling herself somehow by the contact. She rolled him with her foot so that she could reach his pocket. Otis did have a key ring in his pocket, including the key to the door, but no handcuff key was on it. There was, however, a car key. Calleigh held it as reverently as the Holy Grail. The means to freedom, safety, and help was in her hands. Snapping back to her more immediate mission, she thought that Otis might have kept the handcuff key in another room somewhere, not wanting to get it too close to them. She looked back at Horatio. "I'm going to look around for the handcuff key. He doesn't have it on him." Horatio still had his eyes closed and didn't respond. Let him get whatever rest he could at the moment, Calleigh decided. She'd see if she could find anything to splint that leg with, too.  
  
She lumbered out the door. It opened onto a short aisle lined with a few other small doors, but there was obvious daylight at the end of the corridor. Calleigh turned that way, then caught her breath, gasping, as her muscles contracted again. She leaned against the wall, forcing herself to breathe. "Not yet, Rosalind," she begged. "Hold your horses. We've got to find the way out of here and get help for your father first." The spasm passed, and she walked the rest of the way down the hall.  
  
When she reached the end, she realized that they were in some sort of abandoned warehouse, as Horatio had guessed. A few old crates and dust lay around the large storeroom, and a couple of other aisles ran off, apparently to more small rooms and offices. Late morning sunlight came through high windows and danced in geometric patterns, highlighting the dust. The whole place looked like it hadn't been used in years, all except for one corner behind a crate. She headed that way. This was obviously where Otis had stayed. He had swept this area thoroughly. He had a bed in the corner, a table, supplies, and a microwave, and a small bathroom opened right behind the bed. The handcuff key was on the table, shining in the sunlight like a lighthouse to freedom. Calleigh unlocked her cuffs and felt a thrill of pure victory as they fell free. We beat you, she thought. We won, just like Horatio said. She picked up the papers on the table, where Otis had obviously been working on something, and froze. It was a list of names. Names for a child. Names for her child. "It's Rosalind," she said defiantly, and Rosalind kicked as if in response. "And you can't have her. You can never have her." She looked around the corner thoroughly, but the one thing she wanted most after the key was missing. There was no phone. There was also nothing she could possibly use to splint Horatio's leg, unless she broke a leg off the chair, which she doubted either of them had the strength to do at the moment.  
  
She crossed the open area to the door and went outside, sucking in the fresh air gratefully. They seemed to be out in the country somewhere, some isolated area on a back road. Otis' car was parked nose to the building, and Calleigh climbed into the driver's seat. There was no car phone. When she tried the car key, though, the engine awoke smoothly. Fine, she thought, if help won't come to us, we'll go to help.  
  
She hurried as much as she could back into the building and back down the aisle to their prison. She was seriously worried about Horatio. It was high time they left here and got him to a doctor. Her heart skipped a beat as she thought of him attacking Otis, knowing how much it would hurt, fighting for his family. He had never looked as magnificent to her as he did in that moment. She reached the little room again, entering it with a shudder of distaste, glancing quickly at where Otis lay reassuringly dead in the corner before she crossed to the bed. She unlocked Horatio's handcuffs and pulled them free. He had apparently managed to get to sleep again, and he didn't stir at her actions, although she could feel him breathing. She rested one hand on his forehead worriedly, trying to gauge his fever. She had no thermometer, but when he had had a virus for a few days last fall and run a fever of 102.5, he hadn't felt nearly this hot. "Come on, love," she said. "Wake up. We've got to get you to a doctor."  
  
Another contraction nearly doubled her up at that point, and Horatio opened his eyes and sat up, pulling her against him, comforting her silently. "You found the key to the cuffs," he realized abruptly, as soon as she had relaxed again.  
  
"Right. And a car, Horatio! No phone anywhere, but there is a car. Let's go. We're getting out of here." She pulled the keys out of her pocket and twirled them in victory. Horatio reached out and took them from her, then pushed himself up off the bed and reached out to the wall for support.  
  
"What are you doing, Horatio? Give me those keys."  
  
"You can't drive a car when you're going into labor, Cal. That's ridiculous. Come on, let's go." He started painfully toward the door, using the wall to hold himself up, not leaning on her.  
  
"You're in no condition to drive yourself. You can't even walk, Horatio!"  
  
"It's the left leg. Automatic transmission, isn't it? I won't need a clutch."  
  
"Yes, it's automatic transmission. Horatio, give me the keys!" She tried to take them from him, but his stubborn strength even exceeded hers.  
  
"You aren't driving. You do need a doctor, though."  
  
"Even aside from the transmission, you've got a fever of at least 103. Come on, Horatio. I'm the one who's driving. You're outvoted, two to one." She pulled frantically at him and succeeded finally in pulling the keys loose but also in almost knocking him down. He swayed and leaned quickly against the wall to avoid falling over.  
  
"You aren't driving, Cal. You can't drive when you're in labor."  
  
Calleigh set her chin stubbornly and pulled herself up to her full height, such as it was. "You can't even stand up. Horatio, having a car wreck isn't going to help us. I don't believe we're even having this discussion. You're in worse shape, so I'm the one who's driving. And that's final."  
  
The contraction that seized her at that point hit an entirely new level on the Richter scale. She gasped, leaning against the wall herself, aware at a distance that Horatio had sidled down the wall to be next to her and put an arm around her comfortingly. She leaned against him, and they both leaned against the wall. It had more strength than either of them at the moment. Finally, the contraction eased. "You okay, Cal?" He stroked her damp hair back out of her eyes.  
  
She pushed herself away from the wall to stand on shakily obedient legs. The contraction had passed, but she could sense others rumbling like approaching thunder on the horizon. The ringing in her ears was increasing, too. This shouldn't be happening this fast, she objected, but she was forced to recognize the truth now. Neither one of them was in any shape to drive. They had won the car, but they could not use it. "Actually, Horatio, I think Rosalind has decided to outvote both of us. My water just broke." 


	7. Complications 7

Chapter 7. See 1 for disclaimers, fine print, etc. I couldn't sleep last night, so I wrote instead. I warned my body I had to work 12 hours today, but it didn't listen. Guess I'll be ready to sleep by tonight.  
  
I'll finish Complications out from here in one chapter, posted on Friday, Feb 27 (which is Rosalind's birthday), but it will be a very long chapter, even for me. You can always stop halfway and finish it Saturday if you like. ::grin::  
  
A/N: For the first part of this chapter in particular, I am indebted to my mother for providing first-hand information. I have never had kids myself and never intend to, but I wanted a more personal picture than you get from a textbook or from typing medical records. My mother provided inside knowledge in this area, and some of the best images in this chapter ("shards of glass," "fountain of love," more) are hers. I wrote it, but she provided several building blocks. We finalized this opening scene together on a car trip back in early January. I would quote a paragraph, and she would make suggestions/additions and edit things. Made short work of a 3-hour drive. She doesn't watch CSIM, and she did appreciate my contribution of Horatio to this scene. ("Your father wasn't quite like that, Deb.") My own birth wouldn't fit the plot requirements of this story, though Rosalind is based on me (but not in appearance). Therefore, we borrowed my next older brother's arrival to use as a guideline. He made a much more precipitous entry. She also did, with him, have borderline high blood pressure the last few weeks, and her main symptom was tinnitus, so all of the descriptions of that for Calleigh are from her experience, too. Thanks, Mom.  
  
***  
  
"Our situation has not improved."  
  
Henry Jones, Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade  
  
***  
  
They worked their painful way back to the bed. Calleigh flinched on seeing Otis lying in the corner.  
  
"Another one starting?" Horatio asked. He rubbed her back soothingly.  
  
"No. I just spotted Otis again. I know we need the bed, Horatio, but I'd hate to have Rosalind even see him."  
  
"Good point. Enough to scar any child for life." He hauled himself around the room to the clothes pile and bent to pick up several pieces. Another contraction did start at that point, and Calleigh gasped and didn't notice that Horatio nearly fell over getting the clothes. He caught himself against the wall and cursed that stubborn whirlpool. "Breathe," he said. "Remember to breathe. Slow and easy." He was talking to both of them. Together, they survived their respective storms and emerged shakily on the other side. "Okay, Cal?"  
  
"Hanging in there," she managed. He smiled at her and came back around the room, pausing to drop the clothes over Otis, burying the enemy in several of the modified shirts he had meticulously sewn himself. Horatio arrived back at the bed and half sat, half collapsed by Calleigh's feet. He smiled at her weakly, and she returned it, also weakly.  
  
"I don't remember this situation being covered in those childbirth classes," he pointed out.  
  
Calleigh's smile gained strength then, as he had hoped. "We'll have to suggest it to them. How to give birth when you've been abducted and held hostage for days."  
  
"Something all parents should know," he agreed. "Let's see how you're doing. Not that I'm a doctor, but I actually have done this before." He helped her slip her pants off. "I'd say you're over halfway, Cal."  
  
Another contraction seized her at that point, and she fumbled frantically for his hand. He caught it and held it tightly, letting her fingers close painfully around his. The contraction passed. "This shouldn't be happening this quickly," she protested. "It takes hours and hours. Everybody says that."  
  
"You expect our child to be ordinary?" He smiled at her again.  
  
"Good point. Besides, we need to get you to a doctor when this is over. Sooner the better." Another contraction was looming, blurring her focus on anything else, but it seemed to her, as she held his hand, that his fever was much higher than before. Or maybe it was just that she was sweating herself now. His voice seemed perfectly steady. He sounded absolutely like his usual self, better than he had earlier, actually.  
  
"We'll all go to the doctor," he said smoothly. With his free hand, he rubbed her abdomen gently. "Family hospitalization, like you said. All three of us. And then, family life after that." The contraction gathered force, and she had to remind herself to keep breathing. Her body wanted to retreat from the pain, but there was no escape. Finally, her muscles released.  
  
"They're getting stronger," she said. "When have you delivered a child, Horatio?"  
  
"On homicide. I was investigating a murder scene once, and the woman next door to the vic's house went into labor from the stress. That child didn't want to wait, either. There wasn't time for the ambulance to come." He continued rubbing her abdomen sympathetically, holding her hand tightly with his other one. "It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen on the job. Life and death, in two houses side by side. And life took precedence. It was stronger."  
  
Another contraction assaulted her. She gripped his hand even more tightly, hoping on some level that she wasn't actually digging her fingernails into his skin. The spasms started around her womb but quickly swept through the rest of her body, leaving every muscle in her clenched. "I won," she realized, as her body slowly relaxed.  
  
"What did you win?" he asked, not following her for once.  
  
"That doctor. I insisted I didn't want any anesthesia for birth. He said it would be available, if I changed my mind, and gave me this smirk like he was sure I would. Condescending jerk. Like he knows what it feels like, anyway." She wadded some of the pain into a ball and threw it at the doctor mentally.  
  
Horatio chuckled. "Well, I guess you showed him. No anesthesia in sight." He never released his grip on her hand. Calleigh sank back into the bed a little bit more, trembling now. She hoped that she could make it through this. No choice, Cal, she told herself firmly. Horatio squeezed her hand sympathetically. "It'll be over soon, Calleigh. And Rosalind will be here. Safe and sound. Then our future starts. Just imagine it, Cal. The first word. The first step."  
  
Calleigh's body suddenly locked in another contraction, but she shook her voice free. "Keep talking, Horatio. It helps." He kept talking. That velvet voice wrapped around her, a soft blanket encasing the pain, helping just by the contrast, reminding her that there was a contrast. There was beauty and life and love, and they were stronger. The contractions intensified, making it harder to think about anything else. It was like shards of glass penetrating her soul, hurting to a level far deeper than she had expecting, shaking her to the core. Still, she had her verbal lifeline. The ringing in her ears was getting stronger, but that voice was stronger still. Horatio walked them in imagination through Rosalind's future, childhood clear to adulthood, with lingering, loving detail, and Calleigh's mind somehow, on a faint level, anyway, escaped the prison that was her body at the moment and walked joyfully through the future with him.  
  
For Horatio, it was a dream and a nightmare locked in a tug-of-war. The anticipation of his daughter's birth was spiced by concern for Calleigh. He prayed fiercely that everything would be all right. The doctor isn't really needed on 90% of births, he reminded himself. But there were the 10%, and there was her blood pressure. He tried to keep his voice calm and steady, but his own soul was trembling in fear as well as wonder at the coming miracle of life. On a more immediate level, he was fighting intermittent spasms of dizziness that would crash into him like waves, and his heart was acting totally undisciplined, feeling like it wanted to leap clear out of his chest and take off on its own. Several times, he thought he saw multicolored things slinking around the corners of his vision, but he didn't turn to look. The only sight that mattered was Calleigh. At least the pain had retreated to a distant background hum. He heard his own voice at a distance, traveling effortlessly through the future, but it had left his body far behind. Every inch of his willpower was focused on the present. He had to stay strong for her and for Rosalind. He would not let her down in this. He fought the spinning of his own mind and held onto her hand desperately, wondering if she realized how much that physical contact was anchoring him as well as her, hoping that she did not. She had enough else to worry about now.  
  
Time lost all meaning. For Calleigh, there was only the pain and Horatio's voice. Her mind hovered with him, over her body, both observing at a distance and feeling every nerve end on fire at the same time. The urge to push was getting overwhelming, and she resisted it stubbornly, making her body wait until it was ready. She could still have that much control over things, at least. Finally, down a long tunnel of pain, she heard Horatio's voice shift out of dreams of the future. "This is it, Calleigh. Push now. You're completely dilated."  
  
She pushed, and the body that had wanted to push for so long now resisted it. There was a barrier in the way, and she hurled her strength against it time and time again, only to fall back. Horatio had let go of her hand, but his voice was still there, not meandering through the future now but fully rooted in the present, encouraging her. Tears of pain and frustration welled up in her eyes. Rosalind, she thought, make up your mind. Finally, she felt some progress, and Horatio confirmed it. "I can see the head. Come on, Calleigh. You're doing great." With renewed vigor, she hurled her strength against that wall, and block by tedious block it crumbled. "Almost there, Calleigh. Once more." She threw everything she had into it, the ringing in her ears surging like a fire alarm, threatening to split her mind. Then another sound took precedence, the sound of a baby crying.  
  
Calleigh collapsed back against the bed in exhaustion. It was over. "Horatio, is she okay?"  
  
His voice had a new warmth in the tone when he answered. "She's absolutely beautiful."  
  
She had already stopped crying, which worried Calleigh a bit. "Is she breathing?"  
  
"Nice and easy. She's just looking around. Welcome to the world, Rosalind. How are you doing, Cal? What about that ringing?"  
  
"It's getting softer," Calleigh said in relief. "It was awful there at the end, but it's dying back down."  
  
"One more push, if you can, Cal. We've got to get the placenta." That went much easier than the baby, and Calleigh just relaxed. She had expected to enjoy the feeling of no pain, but this wasn't an absence she was celebrating. The pain had not merely vanished but had been replaced by love. She wouldn't have cared if it had still been there. Only Rosalind mattered.  
  
Horatio placed the baby on her abdomen. "I'll go get some of the towels and get her cleaned up." She looked beautiful to Calleigh, a tiny, squirming, vigorous bundle of life. Calleigh touched her in wonder, half afraid that it would all disappear. She hardly noticed Horatio's laborious progress to the bathroom and back, or how long that progress took. He returned finally, sat down, and picked Rosalind up again. "You doing okay, Calleigh?"  
  
"Wonderful," she said. "Everything is wonderful."  
  
"Yes," he agreed. "She's perfect. You're perfect."  
  
Calleigh lay there tired but peaceful, listening to Horatio, who was talking to Rosalind as he gave her a quick bath. Calleigh's smile nearly split her cheeks. Horatio with his daughter. She had dreamed of this. Finally, he put the baby back into her arms. Calleigh looked down at her daughter, and her smile threatened to split her ears, too. Horatio had not only cleaned up Rosalind but had wrapped her in their last large clean towel, folding it into a bunting and tucking in the edges precisely, providing Calleigh with one neatly packaged daughter. Those careful folds with no loose ends even in this situation seemed so much like Horatio that she laughed.  
  
"What's funny?" he asked.  
  
"Nothing," she said. "You did a great job."  
  
"So did you. You sure you're okay now?"  
  
"I'm fine. I feel a lot better, Horatio."  
  
"Good," he said. Calleigh was looking at Rosalind, but she registered on some secondary track in her mind that Horatio suddenly sounded even tireder than she did, poor man. He gave her hand a final squeeze, and then his fingers slipped free from hers. Calleigh's eyes never left the baby. Her own daughter. Safe and sound. Just like Horatio had promised. "Rosalind," she said contentedly.  
  
***  
  
Eric slammed his fist down onto the keyboard, and the computer gave an offended beep. "Give me something useful, then, or you'll get more," he threatened it. He sat back, thinking of Horatio when they hit a dead end on a case. Try to see other angles. Eric forced himself to try to consider this case objectively. What hadn't he tried? Where was the answer? Horatio had taught them above all else that the answer was there, somewhere, always. If they couldn't find it, they were looking in the wrong place.  
  
Movement caught the corner of his eye, and he turned to see Breeze entering the lab with a pizza. She waved at him and headed for Speed's table, where the trace expert sat staring at his computer in dogged frustration. "Come on, Eric. Come on, Tim. You guys have to eat."  
  
Eric hauled himself reluctantly out of his chair and came over to join them. "Are you teaming up with Alexx?"  
  
She half smiled at him, but the seriousness of the situation was written all over her face, no less than his, and no one laughed. "Anything?"  
  
"Zilch." Speed pushed his chair back from the computer. "It's like this hideout doesn't even exist."  
  
"It exists," Eric insisted. "We just aren't looking right."  
  
"Well, enlighten me, then," Speed snapped, letting some of the frustration show.  
  
Eric started to reply in kind, then broke off, his head coming up suddenly, his eyes refocusing. Breeze, who had been preparing to intervene before these two friends said something they would regret later, switched from feminine determination to puzzlement. "Eric? What is it?"  
  
"Enlighten me," he repeated. "We haven't tried that."  
  
"Haven't tried what?" Speed asked.  
  
"What happens when you rent a place? You get the lights turned on. The utility companies."  
  
"We tried that," Speed objected. "Lorenzo Rodriguez didn't have utilities for anything other than his house. Nothing under Stewart Otis, either."  
  
"On that Crighton case, Otis rented a place using a fake first name but his own last name. We haven't tried all the Rodriguez's with new utilities in the area."  
  
Speed groaned. "There have to be hundreds."  
  
"We can narrow it down. After the newspaper article, before the parole hearing. It isn't that big a window."  
  
"That's assuming that he got a hideout just for this. It may have been a building he already had anyway, Eric." Probably another dead end, like all of them were. Still, Speed followed him, taking a piece of pizza along.  
  
Eric was already back at his computer. He picked a 100 mile circle, thinking of the total lack of city noise on the tapes, set the date range, and searched for all new utility customers named Rodriguez. It wasn't hundreds, but it was a complete screenful. Eric started skimming the addresses quickly, comparing each to what little he knew about the hideout, and came to a dead stop a third of the way down. "Look at that one. Carlos Rodriguez. Rented an old warehouse two weeks after that newspaper article."  
  
Speed stared at the address. "That's 70 miles away."  
  
"Right," Eric said. "Out in the middle of nowhere. That address wouldn't have any background city noise. No one likely to stumble into something going on there, either."  
  
They stared at each other, afraid to hope, hoping anyway. Eric grabbed his cell phone and called Adele as Speed drummed his fingers. The pizza was completely forgotten.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh settled back against the bed, feeling more tired yet more fulfilled than she ever had in her life. The ringing in her ears gradually faded out completely as she lay there, and she only realized now in contrast how much it had bothered her. She positioned Rosalind at her breast and felt her daughter start tugging hungrily, and a fountain of love switched on inside her. Horatio's child. Her child. Their child. Utterly perfect. The pain was a distant memory that didn't even matter any more. She let herself lie there just resting in the feeling of feeding her daughter.  
  
Horatio laboriously pulled himself around and lay down next to her. Sparks of light danced in his vision, giving his wife and his daughter shimmering halos as he watched them. Angels, he thought hazily. You're both angels. Forcing himself to hold focus, to be strong for Calleigh, had been the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life, calling on reserves of strength he didn't even know he had. It was over now, though. Otis was dead. Calleigh was safe. Rosalind was safe. Everything was fine now. He could feel the last dregs of his energy draining away like water from a bathtub, but at least he could rest now. He didn't have to fight anymore. Everyone was safe. His eyes fell closed.  
  
Rosalind finished nursing, and Calleigh simply held her daughter close to her, resting in motherhood. The wisps of blonde hair, still damp, went every way in adorable chaos. Calleigh had often felt that way herself, spending uncounted hours and devices in her lifetime to try to tame her hair. She didn't bother as much anymore, though. Horatio preferred it untamed, unconfined. She felt a quick stab of sympathy for Rosalind, who faced all the same hours of effort ahead as a young woman. I'm sorry I gave you my hair, she thought, but maybe someday you'll meet someone who isn't afraid of you untamed. Rosalind opened her eyes for a minute and looked straight at her. The eyes were Horatio's. That same impossible blue with that same direct honesty met her, curious but unwavering. "Horatio," Calleigh said dreamily, "she's got your eyes."  
  
He did not answer. She suddenly focused on Horatio for the first time in countless minutes. It was like lying in front of a roaring fire. It felt like his fever had actually gone up even higher somehow. She rolled over to look at him. His face was still gray underneath the flushed cheeks. He was sweating, yet she could feel him trembling, as if he were cold. The eyes were closed. "Horatio, don't go to sleep on me again. We still need to leave as soon as Rosalind is ready. You need a doctor." He didn't respond. She prodded his shoulder firmly, and he opened his eyes and slowly, with an effort, focused on her.  
  
With a start, she realized that while Rosalind might have Horatio's eyes, Horatio himself did not at the moment. They looked distant, glazed, fragile somehow, like they might shatter under any slight strain. "Horatio, are you feeling worse?"  
  
"No," came the slightly delayed response. "Just tired. Are you and Rosalind doing all right?"  
  
"We're fine." Calleigh propped her daughter on the pillow between them and started to button her shirt. "Come on, I really think we need to get you to a doctor as soon as possible. They'll start you on antibiotics, and you'll feel a lot better then. They'll give you some painkillers for that leg, too. I know how much it must be hurting."  
  
"Not as much now," said Horatio distantly, eyes falling shut again. "It feels better, actually."  
  
Calleigh paused halfway in the act of standing up. "It feels better? After all that?" She couldn't believe it. She appreciated stoicism herself, but this was taking it to ridiculous lengths.  
  
"Yes," he replied. "It's nice and numb now. Hardly hurts at all anymore."  
  
A cacophony of alarm bells suddenly went off in Calleigh's brain, setting up a jangled clamor of fear. Desperately, all gentleness lost in worry, she scrambled back onto the bed beside him and reached for the left pants leg. It wouldn't come free, glued to the leg with a substance that wasn't blood. She fumbled for his fly and jerked his pants completely off. "Not just now, Cal," he protested faintly, but the eyes did not open. Calleigh stared at his leg in horror. It was swollen much more now, even beyond the area covered by her pitifully inadequate bandage. The towel was soaked in a sickly yellow fluid, and she untied the socks and unwound the towel, letting the dressing fall carelessly beside them on the bed. The ugly, gaping wound was completely filled with a thick, purulent material, and the edges were black-rimmed surrounded by red, the tissue inflamed beyond anything she had ever seen. Angry red streaks ran from the gash up the entire length of his leg.  
  
"Dear God," she prayed aloud. The puzzle pieces snapped belatedly into place with a cold click of fear as she suddenly realized what had been happening with him all day long, right before her eyes, and she hadn't even noticed. She placed a hand on him, and the heat nearly seared her skin. She had never in her life known anyone to run a fever like this. She shoved herself off the bed, part of her shocked at how sore she was but most of her not even noticing. She grabbed two more pairs of pants, somehow scrambling into one herself as she ran around the foot of the bed, quickly stuffing Horatio into the other, no longer bothering to be careful with the leg, not taking time to rewrap it. He still didn't open his eyes. "Come on, Horatio, we're leaving now."  
  
"Let's rest a bit first," he suggested distantly. He sounded like he was speaking from the bottom of a well.  
  
"No! Get up, Horatio!" He didn't move. She understood suddenly, like a sledge hammer hitting her in the chest, that he would never get up again from that bed on his own. He had given the last of his strength to her and to Rosalind. Hating herself, Calleigh dragged him off the bed, hauling him with deliberate roughness to his feet and catching him as the leg immediately gave way. "Right now! Put your arm around my shoulders." Jolted by the return of pain, he complied. She balanced herself carefully under the load, Horatio on her right, then picked up Rosalind, cradling the baby against her with her left hand and arm, her right arm around his torso. His eyes were open again, at least. She wanted to apologize to him and forced herself into cheerleader mode instead. "Let's go, Horatio. I'll help you as much as I can. Move!"  
  
They started out of the room, Horatio trying to use her as a human crutch. It was tediously painful progress for both of them. Calleigh's muscles trembled under the strain, but she forced herself to hold both of them up, her mind absolutely refusing to let her body fold. They somehow managed to get down the hall and toward the large open area where she had found the handcuff key. Calleigh kept up a running stream of encouragement, knowing that her voice was the only thing keeping him moving and afraid even it wouldn't be effective much longer. She was urging Horatio along as fast as she could, heading for the door, when he abruptly stiffened, becoming less like a 6-foot rag doll, and dragged them both to a halt. His head turned sharply. "What's that?"  
  
"What?" She tried to pull him along another hopping step. He was as rooted as a tree.  
  
"That noise. There it is again."  
  
"I don't hear anything, Horatio." Nothing except those inner alarms ringing ever more loudly. "Come on, there's nothing there."  
  
"I heard something." He took a halting step, pulling her toward one of the other aisles.  
  
Calleigh shrank before a wave of panic that reared threateningly overhead. "Horatio, listen to me. You've got a very high fever. You're just imagining things that aren't there. I'm amazed you aren't seeing pink elephants at this point, but believe me, it isn't real."  
  
"Yes, it is," he insisted stubbornly. "There's something back there." Seized with a surge of strength, he broke away from her and actually made it a step before he totally collapsed, the left leg giving way. Calleigh was barely in time to half catch him as he fell.  
  
"Horatio, please," she begged. "Come on." If he turned uncooperative, she would never get him out to the car. She was still so weakened herself from giving birth that her own legs felt shaky. She pulled him back up, tucking his arm over her shoulders again. "Please. Let's go now. There's nothing there."  
  
"Who is it?" Horatio shouted suddenly, the words echoing eerily off the ceiling and walls. Calleigh gave a sob of desperation as she pulled at him, then abruptly froze. It was a soft repeated thump, so close to the frantic beating of her heart that she had thought they were one and the same.  
  
"I think you're right, Horatio," she admitted. "Somebody else is here. Come on." She pulled him toward the noise now, and he came willingly with her this time. She could have moved faster without him, but she wasn't about to leave him at this point, no matter who else needed her. They worked their painful way down another hall, following the always louder thumping until they reached a door. It quivered at the onslaught of kicks from the other side. Calleigh propped Horatio against the nearest wall and thrust Rosalind at him. "Hold her." She fumbled through Otis' keys. The third one she tried unlocked the door.  
  
A child of no more than 6 years shrank back as she burst into the room. It was set up much like their own cell had been. The child's hands were tied, and a gag cut into his face. "Easy," Calleigh said, forcing herself to slow down. "I won't hurt you. Here, let me get that gag off." She gently worked it loose, feeling a surge of anger at the dark bruises around the mouth underneath it. She quickly started work on the knots that held the hands together. His child's wrists had been too small for handcuffs to work. "It's okay. We're friends. I'm Calleigh. What's your name?"  
  
The large eyes tracked her every move, still frightened. "Aaron."  
  
"Did he hurt you, Aaron?"  
  
Slowly, he nodded. "Is he coming back?"  
  
"No," Calleigh promised. "He's never coming back. Never." She freed the last knot, and the rope fell to the ground. "Would you like to leave now, Aaron?" He nodded. "Come on, then. I can't give you my hand, because I need both of them, but just come along with us, okay?"  
  
They exited the room together, and Aaron stared at Horatio, who was slowly sliding down the wall, although Rosalind was still cradled securely in his arms. "What's wrong with him?"  
  
Calleigh caught him, pulling his arm across her shoulders again as she took Rosalind from him. "He's sick. We've got to get him to a doctor, okay? Then we'll find your family, I promise. Come on, Aaron. Come on, Horatio."  
  
They wound their way in increasingly slow motion back down the hall and out the building. Horatio was leaning more heavily on her with every step, and Calleigh bit back a groan. He heard it anyway. "You okay?"  
  
"Fine," she lied. She was compared to him, anyway. They finally made it out the door and to Otis' car. "Aaron, get in the back seat." She propped Horatio on the side of the car long enough for her to open the passenger door. "Okay, this is going to be tough. Put the bad leg in first." He started to comply, then hesitated, staring at the road. "What is it?"  
  
"I never saw a road with waves before. Looks like a river. Are you sure we don't need a boat?"  
  
Calleigh gritted her teeth in worry. "Positive. It's a road, I swear. Come on, Horatio. Slide your left leg in." He got it into the car that time, and she saw his eyes flood with the sudden pain as he extended it. She tried to help him, taking some of his weight, continuing her cheerleader act. "Okay, get into the seat now. That's it. You're doing fine. Now get the other leg in." He finally was there, and she thrust Rosalind at him and pulled the seatbelt across both of them, fastening it securely. At least he was beyond arguing over who should drive now. She closed the door and sprinted around the car, launching herself into the driver's seat with only a quick glance back to make sure Aaron was safely in, turning the key almost before she had the door closed. The engine roared to life, and she peeled rubber in reverse as she backed away from the building, then swung around. She ground to a sudden halt at the road. "Now which way do you suppose is shorter to help? Right or left?" She had no idea where they were.  
  
She had been asking herself, but Horatio answered. "Left."  
  
Calleigh looked across at him, wondering if he saw a rhinoceros herd or something on the right. "Why left?"  
  
"Left is east. Towns are all down the coast. We've got to find a town that way."  
  
"Not bad." She swung the car left, hitting the accelerator instantly. The vehicle leaped down the road. Otis at least had appreciated reliable transportation. "Pretty good reasoning, Lieutenant." She was fishing for a response, trying to hold his attention on reality.  
  
"I try," he replied. He looked at Rosalind, cuddled tightly in his arms, and she looked back at him. She did have his eyes. "Rosalind," he said lovingly. Calleigh smiled at him, then returned her full focus to the road, pushing the car as much as she could without risking a wreck. That wouldn't help them. About 20 miles down the road, it forked into another, and this time there was a mileage sign at the intersection. Miami 50 miles. She turned right. "50 miles to Miami, Horatio. We're heading the right direction. We'll get you some help as soon as we come to any place with a phone. Probably a lot less than 50 miles."  
  
He did not answer. She wrenched her eyes off the road long enough to look over at him. His head had rolled sideways and was resting against the seatbelt. His eyes were closed, and his face didn't have a shred of color in it. "Horatio, stay with me." She reached across and prodded him. "Horatio." Rosalind started to cry. Calleigh grabbed his shoulder and shook him almost violently. "Horatio!"  
  
There was absolutely no response. 


	8. Complications 8

And the finale. It is a hideously long chapter, so read it when you have plenty of time (or in two or more segments). Thanks to everyone who's come along on the ride on this one and is still with me. I hope we didn't have any casualties along the way. Many of you will wish this last part could be easier. I really do myself, but I can't write something (in a serious story) that I know is unrealistic. I am familiar with septic shock both personally and through my job, and there is no way in the world that anyone could just snap out of it in a few days. So everything won't just suddenly be fine, but it will be eventually. Don't loosen your seatbelt just yet, but there is the happy ending, as promised. Thanks for the feedback.  
  
***  
  
"I was ever a fighter. So, one fight more, The best and the last."  
  
Robert Browning, Prospice  
  
***  
  
The car blasted down the road. Both of the children were wailing in fear, and Calleigh had to fight the urge to join them. She tried to push the accelerator down further, but it was already on the floor. It was late afternoon, but the road was totally deserted. Where was the traffic? Where was the Highway Patrol? She would be thrilled to get stopped for speeding at the moment. She looked across at Horatio again. He was still breathing, but it was more uneven just in the last few minutes. This can't be happening, she thought. Otis is dead. He can't keep hurting us after he's dead.  
  
Calleigh rounded a curve, slowing down to 70 for it, and suddenly saw red and blue lights swirling ahead. A police cruiser was leading the way, coming from the other direction, and behind it was the familiar blocky shape of a CSI Hummer. She hit the brakes, then spun the wheel, sending the car careening wildly to a halt sideways across the road, blocking it completely. She was already out of the door as the other vehicles screeched to a stop. Adele, Eric, Speed, and Alexx leaped out. She had never been so glad to see them in her life, especially Alexx. "Calleigh!" The ME raced toward her. "The baby. . ."  
  
"I'm fine, Alexx, but you've got to help Horatio! Please." She wrenched the passenger's door open, then forced herself to stand aside. Alexx unfastened the seatbelt and passed Rosalind to Calleigh, who passed her on to Adele. Alexx picked up Horatio's wrist, checking his pulse, then instantly put her other hand against his forehead, not even waiting to count the heartbeats. She turned back, and Calleigh saw something in Alexx's eyes she'd never seen there before – absolute helplessness.  
  
"One of you call for a helicopter."  
  
"Eric's calling for an ambulance," said Speed.  
  
"Too slow. We need a helicopter right now." Adele passed Rosalind back to Calleigh and raced toward the police cruiser. "Tell them he's in septic shock," Alexx called after her, and Adele nodded without turning around. Alexx turned back to Horatio and studied him more thoroughly, checking the slight abrasion on his face and then dismissing it. "Calleigh, where is he hurt?"  
  
"His left leg. It's broken about halfway below the knee."  
  
Alexx tried to reach across to the leg, but the dash was in the way. "Help me get him out of here," she said to Speed. He joined her. Between them, they worked Horatio out of the car and laid him down flat on the roadway. Alexx knelt on the left, and Calleigh crouched on the other side. Alexx tried to roll up his pants leg, then gave up, snapping open the small medical kit she had with her. She had brought basic first aid supplies in case they were needed, but she had never expected this. At least she did have scissors. She cut the material off just below the knee, exposing the leg, then bowed her head, closing her eyes in prayer and frustration.  
  
"Damn." Eric had joined the group and looked down at his boss. Speed was gaping next to him. None of them had ever seen a wound that looked worse on someone who was still alive. They'd seen fatal ones that looked a lot better on victims.  
  
Adele came up. "The helicopter is coming." She joined the rest of them in staring.  
  
Calleigh shook herself out of paralysis. "Alexx, can't you do something?" she pleaded.  
  
Alexx's sad eyes met hers across Horatio's body. "I haven't got what he needs with me."  
  
"Antibiotics, right?"  
  
Alexx felt torn between truth and comfort. Truth won. "He needs a lot more than antibiotics at this point, Calleigh. The infection is into the bloodstream. It's attacking every system in his body now." She looked back down at her friend and clenched her hands into helpless fists. She knew exactly, in painful medical detail, what was happening, and she was powerless to do anything but wait for help along with the rest of them and pray that it wouldn't come too late. He needed a full ICU, not her first aid kit. She slowly slipped out of her jacket and placed it over him, then took a thermometer out of her bag and inserted it into his mouth. She could make a good guess at the answer, but it would help to have a baseline for the paramedics to compare to. "How long ago did he break the leg? Was that from the car accident?"  
  
"Right, the day we were abducted. What day is this?"  
  
"Sunday," said Adele.  
  
They had been in that room for six days, then. "There was nothing I could do," Calleigh half-sobbed. "Otis had us locked in one small room. He wouldn't even give me some Tylenol."  
  
"Where is Otis?" asked Eric.  
  
"He's dead. Horatio killed him. He was going to take Rosalind." She suddenly remembered her daughter and looked down at her. Rosalind had stopped crying, but her wide, frightened eyes were rolling from one of them to the other, wondering what crazy world she had arrived in. Calleigh reached out and put her on top of Horatio. Maybe his daughter could reach him. "Stay with us, Horatio," she pleaded. "Rosalind needs you. I need you."  
  
Alexx gently picked up the child and handed her back. "Don't put her on his chest, Calleigh. He's having trouble breathing." He was breathing in rapid, shallow gasps now. Calleigh picked up his hand and held it tightly, wrapping Rosalind's tiny hand between both of theirs. What was taking that helicopter so long? She shifted her hand slightly to take his pulse, to reassure herself that it was still there, and her eyes widened as much as Rosalind's as she felt the thready, ragged gallop. She timed it herself on her watch. 148 beats per minute. "Alexx? Why is his pulse like that?"  
  
Alexx picked up his other wrist, checking the pulse again. "He's going into circulatory collapse. As the pressure fails, his heart is trying to work harder to compensate." She didn't have to say that the effort wouldn't be successful. She removed the thermometer, looked at it, then wordlessly tucked it back into her useless kit, her expression giving no clue. She had expected that answer.  
  
"How high is it?" Calleigh insisted.  
  
Alexx met her eyes with sympathetic directness. "105.5."  
  
"What?" Speed shook his head, thinking maybe he had heard it wrong.  
  
"How long has he been unconscious, Calleigh?" asked Alexx.  
  
She tried to force herself to think clearly. Any information she could give might help him. She couldn't let herself just fall apart. "I'm not totally sure. I was driving. About 20 minutes maybe. He's been fading in and out all day before that, though." She had finally realized it in retrospect. How had she possibly missed seeing how much worse he was today? She had actually been glad, thinking only that he was finally getting some sound sleep, but the clues had been there. She had just been too caught up in her own ordeal to assess his condition.  
  
"Only 20 minutes?" Alexx was surprised. "I'm amazed he was functional at all today, even hit and miss."  
  
Calleigh looked at Rosalind again. "He was trying to hold it together for me. He delivered Rosalind." Even afterwards, she had just laid there on the bed admiring Rosalind for what now seemed like forever, not even realizing how Horatio had collapsed beside her. Those minutes, at least, were ones where she could have moved faster. If he died, she would never forgive herself. Or him, for that matter. "He never said anything at all to me today about feeling worse, Alexx. Not one word." She prayed that she would get the chance to discuss that with him at some point, forcefully enough to knock some sense into him. Selflessness could be carried too far.  
  
Alexx read her mind. "I honestly don't think he could have accurately judged it, Calleigh. Not today. He wouldn't realize just how bad it was himself. He probably thought the pain was getting better, if anything."  
  
Calleigh shuddered. "He did say that." Once she had finally gotten down to talking about how he was feeling, instead of being centered on her own pain. She hadn't even asked him all day today until after Rosalind's birth. She looked at his face, frighteningly still beneath the obvious battle to breathe, like he had already at some level moved beyond the fight his body was still putting up. I should have noticed sooner, she thought. I don't have any excuse. Alexx read her mind again but knew that there was nothing she could say at the moment. Calleigh wouldn't listen to anything but her own accusations right now.  
  
Eric suddenly noticed the other child hovering in frightened uncertainty in the background. "Who's the other kid?"  
  
"Aaron. Otis had him." Calleigh didn't even look up. She couldn't spare thought for anyone else right now, not even another victim. She gripped Horatio's hand tightly, hoping that he could feel it on some level. "Horatio, don't leave me," she begged. "You promised me we would all be fine, remember?" A single tear fell over the edge and kissed him as it fell. Calleigh fiercely blinked back others, refusing to let anything block her view of him, afraid if she did, he would disappear from her life forever at that instant, leaving her with only his child to remember him by. "This is our daughter's birthday, Horatio. Don't you dare die on our daughter's birthday."  
  
Alexx abruptly remembered that there was more than one patient. "Are you hurt, Calleigh?"  
  
"No. I wasn't in the car. Horatio was." Alexx reached across and took Rosalind from her, examining the child briefly. She started to comment on the eyes and bit back the remark. Calleigh was shivering, more in fear than cold, and Eric took his jacket off and gave it to her. After that, they all just huddled there in helpless silence, watching Horatio slide downhill, unable to pull him back. It was like starting the nightmare of the last week over again, only this time, they were watching it first hand, so they knew there was no mistake. Finally, the whip of the rotors was heard in the distance, gradually growing louder, and the helicopter landed on the deserted road behind them.  
  
They might have taken their time coming, but Calleigh had no complaints with how fast the paramedics moved now. They already had one IV running before Horatio was thoroughly strapped onto the gurney, and the medic started forcing fluid in as a bolus, not just letting it drip in slowly, before they had even reached the helicopter. Calleigh bolted after him, starting to climb into the helicopter herself. One of the medics looked dubiously at her, figuring out the weight load.  
  
"She's a patient, too," Alexx put in. "She just gave birth. She needs to be checked out herself."  
  
"Right." Calleigh grabbed Rosalind from Alexx and exhibited her as proof. "I need to go, too." The medic made no further protest. They secured everything, and the helicopter took off again, moving with reassuring speed toward Miami.  
  
Left behind on the ground, the team stood watching the helicopter forlornly until it vanished. Adele turned to Aaron finally, talking to him, reassuring him. Eric caught Alexx's arm as they started to return to their Hummer. "Alexx, what's the survival rate for septic shock?"  
  
She hesitated. "It's right around 50%, but most of the stats are based on people who develop it while they're already hospitalized for whatever it was a complication of."  
  
"You mean half the people die anyway, even with immediate treatment?" Speed asked in disbelief.  
  
"Yes," Alexx confirmed softly. "It's one of the leading causes of deaths in ICUs." She looked after the vanished helicopter. "I've never heard of anyone that advanced before getting any treatment at all who survived."  
  
"I'll secure the scene at the warehouse," said Adele. "You all take Aaron and go back to Miami. He ought to be checked out at the hospital, too. Otis is dead. We can process the warehouse later." Gratefully, the team piled into the Hummer and headed for the hospital. Adele was left alone in the middle of the road. She pulled Otis' car to the side and locked it, but she stood there for a long time herself, looking back toward Miami, before she finally started the police cruiser and slowly drove in the opposite direction.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh never took her eyes off Horatio's face. He was on oxygen now, and they were forcing fluids into him through two IVs. The medic was in radio communication with a doctor at the hospital, and she heard the conversation at a distance, somehow. Only Horatio was reality at the moment. Everything else was disconnected background. He was still alive. She heard the medic tell the doctor that his temperature was 105.6. How could it possibly still be rising? She held his hand tightly, joining Rosalind's with them, as if that link alone could keep him from slipping away from them. In spite of the fever, his fingers felt cold now.  
  
The helicopter made a sickening swing, realigning itself, and she saw the hospital landing pad racing up beneath them. They had the doors open as soon as the helicopter touched down, and Calleigh scrambled out herself, never taking her eyes off Horatio. A swarm of medical personnel descended on him, and they rolled the gurney at a brisk run into the ER. Calleigh tried to keep pace and couldn't. Her legs still felt shaky.  
  
A nurse appeared at her side, gripping her arm firmly but gently. "They're doing everything they can for him, ma'am. We need to get you examined, too." Calleigh let herself be propelled into a cubicle, but she was part of the disconnected background now. She barely noticed the staff taking her vitals, their comments on Rosalind, or the treatment release forms she signed for all of them. Her whole being was focused into her ears, and they were next door, listening to the doctors battle death for Horatio.  
  
"Pressure is still falling. . . Two units of packed red cells now. . . Get blood cultures and a culture from that leg, and then I want antibiotic coverage for all the major organisms . . . Saturation 80% on full oxygen. . . Temp is now 105.7. . .Still has tachycardia, increasing arrhythmia. . .Come on, Lieutenant, fight for it. You've got to help us out here."  
  
Calleigh swung her legs sideways and dropped off the exam table to the floor with a thump, hardly hearing the protests of the nurse who was taking her information. She drove her shaky legs into a run for the short distance it took to reach him. Death might separate them, but the ER staff wasn't going to.  
  
"Ma'am, you can't . . ." Calleigh plowed straight past the protesting technician and the huddle of personnel and finally reached his side. She picked up his hand. The entire hand was cold now.  
  
"Horatio, listen to me," she said urgently. "We're not safe yet." The babble of protest around her gradually died as the staff realized what she was doing. "Do you hear me? I'm still in danger, Horatio. So is Rosalind. You've got to help us. You can't leave us here alone. We need you to save us." She slid her hand up his arm until she got past the coldness to where she thought he might feel it. "Help us, Horatio."  
  
She squeezed his arm tightly, her eyes glued to his face. The voices still sounded quietly in the background around her. "Rhythm is evening out. Still too fast but more regular. . . Pressure is stabilizing a bit. . . O2 saturation now 82%. . . Temperature still 105.7."  
  
A hand touched her gently on the arm. "Mrs. Caine, you really need to let us finish checking you out."  
  
"I don't need it," Calleigh protested. "I'm absolutely fine." She straightened up slightly from Horatio, turned around to face her challenger defiantly while still keeping her hand on her husband's arm, and, for the first time in her life, totally passed out.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh opened her eyes to bright morning sunlight. She was in a hospital bed. She didn't have her watch on or her clothes anymore, but it looked like morning sunlight to her. What had happened? She remembered nothing past the ER.  
  
She swung the sheet back and started to get out of bed, and at that minute, Alexx came into the room. "Calleigh! You're awake now. Great."  
  
Calleigh stood up on legs that weren't shaky anymore to face the ME. "Horatio?" Her heart was too full for her to say anything more just then.  
  
"He's holding his own. Still in critical condition, but he's doing a little better. Things look better for him than they did on Sunday."  
  
"Is this Monday? What time is it, Alexx?"  
  
"Tuesday. 9:00 AM."  
  
"Tuesday? What happened to Monday?"  
  
Alexx smiled. "If you'll get back in bed for a minute, I'll fill you in."  
  
"I need to see Horatio."  
  
"Of course, but don't you want to know the details first?"  
  
Calleigh reluctantly climbed back into bed. "Okay, but make it fast."  
  
"You passed out in the ER. You really weren't in great shape yourself, dehydrated and run down, and you'd just given birth. They sedated you so you'd get the rest your body needed while they got your fluids back up."  
  
"Who gave them permission to do that?"  
  
"You did. You signed releases for any treatment deemed medically necessary on all three of you."  
  
All three of them. "Is Rosalind okay?"  
  
"She's fine. She's in the best shape of any of you. Charming the nurses to death. They all love the eyes."  
  
"Alexx, tell me about Horatio."  
  
"They've got him more stabilized now. His fever is down some, and his blood pressure is up some. Not that they're normal yet at all, but he's doing better. He has a long fight ahead still, but I think he's going to make it. His doctor won't grant you that much yet, but his doctor doesn't know him. We do." She reached out to give Calleigh's arm a reassuring squeeze. "We know quite a bit about how people die from this, unfortunately. Most of the time, when it's fatal, they won't make any real improvement, just keep spiraling down. All of his numbers are a little better now. Also, he never totally stopped breathing on his own, and that's a very good sign."  
  
Calleigh met her eyes directly. "You really believe he's going to recover?"  
  
"Yes." Alexx matched her directness. "Honestly, Calleigh, I wouldn't have given him a chance Sunday. It's amazing that he's picking up at all, as far gone as he was. But I really think that if he was going to die, he would have died Sunday night." She leaned over the bed, hugging Calleigh. "You've still got him, sweetheart. It will take a long time, but he'll make it all the way back."  
  
Calleigh leaned against Alexx for a minute, feeling the tension of the last week start to ebb. Alexx hadn't lied to her Sunday. She wouldn't lie to her now. After a minute, Calleigh pulled back, ready for the details now that the big question was answered. "Did they fix his leg?"  
  
"No. He isn't stable enough for anesthesia, and there's no point in it anyway. A severely infected wound like that isn't going to heal. When they get the systemic infection cleared up, it will be just like the break was fresh. The leg isn't the primary problem anymore; the infection in the blood is. He was quite dehydrated, too, even more than you were. That was compounding the shock. You wouldn't believe how much fluid and medicine it took to get his blood pressure up."  
  
"He's hardly felt like eating or drinking much last week."  
  
"I can imagine," Alexx said reverently. "Fortunately, he was in excellent physical condition before all of this. If he hadn't been, he never could have survived it."  
  
"So the fracture isn't going to be a problem? We were worried about malunion, since it hadn't been set."  
  
"No. The bone hadn't even started to heal, and it isn't going to until he's in a lot better shape. It will need a plate, to hold the tibia together, but they won't be doing that until the infection is beaten. It isn't an easy fracture to deal with, but as long as the bone starts healing once it isn't infected any more, he should make a full recovery from it. Fortunately, it was well above his old ankle fracture. There is some chance of nonunion after an infection into the bone like that, but I can't see Horatio doing anything halfway. They did do some emergency work on the leg. Flushed it out, trimmed up the edges of the wound, debrided the necrotic bits, and put drains in, so it's being flushed with antibiotic saline constantly now."  
  
"You just said he wasn't stable enough for anesthesia."  
  
"They didn't give him any, just IV pain meds to try to take the edge off. They did use local, as much as that could do, but it isn't really effective on a deep bone wound like that." Calleigh sat up straight, her eyes flashing, and Alexx quickly went on. "Trust me, Calleigh, he isn't going to remember it. I doubt he ever remembers much of those last one or two days. And as much as it must have been hurting him anyway, the difference for them to work on it was minor."  
  
"Is he still unconscious?"  
  
"Most of the time. He wakes up for a minute or two sometimes. I've been in to see him – and you – regularly, talking to you, giving you updates on each other. He only woke up once when I was there, though, and he didn't make a lot of sense then."  
  
"Did he think you were me?"  
  
Alexx smiled. "No, he'd have to be more than delirious to make that mistake. He recognized me, all right. He asked where you were, and I told him that you were in your own room, that the doctors had knocked you out so that your body could get the rest it needed. That's where he didn't make sense. All he said was, 'Serves her right.'"  
  
Calleigh burst into relieved laughter. "He was more there than you thought he was. I've knocked him out a couple of times, as an absolute last resort when he couldn't sleep at all. He hates it."  
  
Alexx looked at Calleigh with new respect. "I'll bet."  
  
"Where is he, Alexx? I need to see him."  
  
"He's in the ICU on the 2nd floor. Calleigh, he's still not in good shape. The improvement is relative. Also, if he does wake up, I'm sure his memory is going to have holes in it. Don't expect too much from him."  
  
"I just want to see him," she insisted. "I don't care what he looks like, or how little sense he makes." Calleigh stalked out of the room with as much dignity as anyone can muster wearing a hospital gown, and Alexx smiled to herself. Calleigh, at least, was back.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh entered the ICU and spoke briefly to the nurse at the central desk. The room was lined with individual cubicles, and the nurse indicated Horatio's. Calleigh walked around the half-pulled curtain and just stood there for a minute, looking at him.  
  
He lay motionless, eyes closed. His face was drawn, and his color still wasn't normal. An oxygen cannula was taped into place, and multiple monitors and tubes of all sorts were hooked up to him. He had an arterial monitoring line in his left arm, and a central venous port in the subclavian vein in his left shoulder had replaced the peripheral IVs, allowing the doctors even more direct access to give him fluids and medicine. It looked like he had some sort of cage over his left leg, holding the sheet up off it. Various tubes ran to the leg, apparently flushing the open wound constantly, like Alexx had said. Calleigh looked at the monitor screens by his head. Heart rate 105, respirations 23, blood pressure 90/59. His temperature was 104.4. She stepped up quietly to the bedside and lifted the sheet over his left leg, wanting to reassure herself that it was indeed better. It looked like something from a science fiction movie, the leg encased in a complicated dressing and brace with tubes running in and out. Even that was an improvement over how it had looked Sunday, though. It was obviously being treated now, at least. The red streaks were still there. She dropped the sheet again and stepped up beside his head, bending over to kiss him. "You scared me, Horatio," she said softly. "You should have said something that day, told me how you were feeling, as much as you knew, anyway. I'm sorry I didn't notice." The only response was the steady if fast beat of his heart on the monitor. She stroked his hot face with her hand for several minutes, watching the monitors. Not normal, like Alexx had said, but better and perfectly steady. His hands weren't cold anymore, either. As usual, Alexx was right, Calleigh decided. He had turned the corner. She felt reassured a bit, although still worried. "Thank you, God," she said aloud.  
  
His eyelids fluttered slightly, and his head turned on the pillow. "Horatio," she said softly. "Horatio. Are you there?"  
  
The eyes slowly opened. They still didn't look anything close to normal. There was instant recognition in them, though. "Calleigh," he said weakly. "Are you okay?"  
  
"I'm fine. You're the one we're worried about now. We thought we'd lost you there for a little while."  
  
"I'm not going anywhere," he said.  
  
"I'll hold you to that." She bent to kiss him again. "You made me a promise, after all."  
  
"Sure you're okay?"  
  
"I'm fine, Horatio."  
  
"How did we get out?"  
  
"Do you remember Otis?"  
  
"He had us. He wanted Rosalind." He smiled faintly. "I remember Rosalind."  
  
"She's fine. Everybody's fine now, except you. And you need to hurry up and get that way."  
  
"Working on it," he replied. "How did we get away?"  
  
Calleigh hesitated for a second. "You killed him. You don't remember that?"  
  
He shook his head slightly. "Did I have to?"  
  
"Yes," she said firmly. "No choice at all." She was relieved that he seemed to accept the assurance.  
  
"Was that when he came to get Rosalind?"  
  
"No. He was dead before she was born, actually." Calleigh caught just a second of his usual analytical skill flicker through his mind, trying to arrange the timeline, before it bogged down in the marsh of feverish weakness.  
  
"I don't remember it," he protested faintly. "Or getting out. Too many missing pieces." He always hated missing pieces.  
  
Calleigh stroked his face gently. "Don't worry about it, Horatio. I'll tell you everything that happened, so you can fit it all together. But later on, okay? Right now, the only thing that matters is that we're all three safe."  
  
"You sure you're okay? Alexx said you were a patient, too."  
  
"I'm fine, Horatio."  
  
"Be sure to take care of yourself, Cal."  
  
She smiled at him. "You do the same." His eyes were drifting shut again. "You're wearing yourself out talking. You need to rest if you're going to beat this. Why don't you get some more sleep?" He nodded faintly, eyes totally shut now, and Calleigh made her big mistake. "I'll be right here with you."  
  
The eyes snapped open like they were on a spring release. "No."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You're not staying. You've got to take care of yourself. I won't let you just sit here with me."  
  
Calleigh gritted her teeth in familiar exasperation. "Horatio, I'm fine. You're the one who's in bad shape. Don't worry about me."  
  
"No." His voice was rising slightly, and he shifted weakly, trying to push himself up to a sitting position. "You're not staying."  
  
Calleigh tried to press him back against the pillow. "Easy now. Settle down, Horatio."  
  
"You aren't going to just sit here. You've got to look after yourself. And Rosalind. I won't let you do it." He pushed his way back up against her resistance. His heart rate had kicked up even more.  
  
"Horatio, take it easy. You don't need to be getting excited. You'll hurt yourself." She tried to stroke his hair soothingly, and he pulled away from her.  
  
"You'll hurt yourself. If I have to walk out of here to keep you from just sitting by this bed, I'll do it." He managed to get up to a sitting position in the bed. Alarms on two monitors went off.  
  
"Horatio, you can't walk!" Calleigh tried to stop him, but he shifted his legs, starting to get up and walk out of ICU, and hit the left one sharply on the hospital bed rails, a painful metal clang sounding as the brace knocked into the railing. Two nurses were descending on the cubicle in brisk professional disapproval.  
  
"What's going on here? Mr. Caine, you can't get up!" Mr. Caine had just discovered that. He fell back sideways against the pillow, his breathing coming in shallow gasps again. What little color he had had in his face had vanished. The beeps of the monitors had become uneven.  
  
One of the nurses locked eyes with Calleigh and jerked her head toward the door, speaking softly but firmly. "I think you'd better leave."  
  
Calleigh fought down her resentment. The woman was right. She nodded to the nurse but didn't move away from the bed immediately. Instead, she leaned over and touched her husband's cheek lightly. He was sweating. "Horatio." The fever-glazed eyes opened halfway and looked back at her, and she winced herself at the pain in them. "Listen to me. I'm leaving, okay?" He relaxed a fraction, although the pain was obviously still severe. "I'll go and take care of myself, and I won't stay here, but only if you cooperate with everybody and lie still. Deal?" He nodded weakly. She kissed him again. "Be good now, Horatio. I'm gone. I'll come back and visit you later, just for a few minutes." She left the cubicle but went only as far as the nurse's station, leaning against it, watching as the nurses straightened him out, checked all the lines, fixed the cage over his leg again, and rehooked the one drain tube he had managed to pull out. Finally, one of them left the bedside. The other stayed, obviously intending to watch him personally until everything stabilized again.  
  
"I'm sorry," Calleigh said softly as the nurse re-entered the station. "I didn't expect him to react like that."  
  
"He's not himself at the moment, honey. You're going to have to make allowances."  
  
"I'll remember that," Calleigh promised, but her mistake had been not realizing how much Horatio was himself. She had thought that while he was so sick, he would want the comfort of having her near him. Wrong. Even half-delirious, Horatio would think of others before himself. Knowing that she had just given birth, that she was a patient, too, he wouldn't accept her vigil. She would only agitate him trying. "Is he okay?" she asked with concern.  
  
The nurse was making a note in Horatio's chart. "No, he's not okay. But I don't think he's any worse off than he was before." She closed the chart and opened another one, switching her thoughts to another case. Calleigh stayed by the nurse's station watching for a long time, fairly sure that Horatio's perceptions didn't extend this far at the moment. When she was finally convinced that he was stable again and that he wasn't fighting the staff's care, she returned to her own room to keep her end of their bargain.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh had just finished feeding Rosalind the next morning when Alexx entered the room. "Good morning. How are you feeling?"  
  
"I'm fine," Calleigh insisted, and it wasn't that much of a stretch to say it anymore. "They're going to let me go this afternoon. Could you give me and Rosalind a ride home?"  
  
"Of course. Would you like me to stay over for the first night or two?" Alexx saw the independence fires ignite in Calleigh's eyes and quickly continued. "Horatio would probably rest easier knowing that you had some help, at least for tonight. You know he'll ask you."  
  
Calleigh gave a resigned sigh. "Okay, then. And thanks." There was nothing reluctant about the smile she gave her friend.  
  
"Have you seen Horatio yet this morning? I came up here first."  
  
"Yes, for a few minutes. You know, you've sabotaged things, Alexx. Horatio wants to see me, but he gets upset if I stay. You spent 36 hours telling him I was a patient, too, before I ever got a chance to tell him I was perfectly fine."  
  
"Sorry about that," said the ME innocently. "What's his fever this morning?"  
  
"104.1." Calleigh shuddered slightly. "I've never been so scared in my life."  
  
"It was a close thing. A little longer, and he wouldn't have made it." Alexx saw Calleigh's expression change suddenly. "What's wrong?"  
  
"I didn't even notice him, Alexx."  
  
Alexx sighed. "Calleigh," she started.  
  
Calleigh plowed straight over her. She didn't want reassurance at the moment; she wanted guilt, wanted to punish herself with it. "That whole last day, he was so much worse. I can see it now, thinking back, but I honestly didn't realize it at the time. And then, all during the birth, he was making such an incredible effort for me, and I didn't even notice what it was costing him."  
  
"You had an excellent excuse for not being at your best, Calleigh."  
  
"So did he," Calleigh insisted. "I keep thinking I could have at least moved faster after Rosalind was born. I just laid there for I don't know how long, Alexx, and Horatio had basically passed out next to me. And I didn't see it until it was almost too late."  
  
Alexx grasped her hands firmly, forcing reassurance on her whether she wanted it or not. "Calleigh, listen to me. Horatio was in that condition because of Otis. It was the six days without treatment that caused it, not you stopping for a minute to look at your baby. I think you did remarkably well. I don't know of anyone else who could have taken charge, gotten Horatio into the car, and driven for help right after giving birth. You saved him, Calleigh. It probably would have been too late if we had driven all the way out to the warehouse before we called for the helicopter. You even managed to rescue Aaron in the middle of it."  
  
Calleigh smiled suddenly. "That was Horatio, too. I was trying to drag him out to the car, and he kept insisting he heard something. I thought he was hallucinating."  
  
Alexx shook her head fondly. "I think he'd hear someone needing help if he was totally dead, not just half." She squeezed Calleigh's arm warmly. "You are the two most remarkable people I know, and I think you did each other proud. You have nothing to be ashamed of." She reached out for Rosalind, and Calleigh let her take her. "This young lady ought to be extraordinary if she's even halfway like her parents." Rosalind looked back at her with Horatio's eyes. "Amazing how much time she spends just looking around. You can see the wheels turning."  
  
"The nurses have all noticed that. She's pretty quiet most of the time, they say, although she'll sure let you know when she needs something. But she's always watching the world."  
  
"You had quite an introduction to it, didn't you, honey?" Alexx said to the baby.  
  
A knock sounded on the door. "Come in," Calleigh called, and she was surprised to see the captain enter the room.  
  
"Mrs. Caine, how are you doing?" He extended one finger to tickle Rosalind, who looked back at him like he was a specimen in the CSI lab.  
  
"I'm doing fine. I'll be going home this afternoon."  
  
"Wonderful. There were just a few paperwork issues I'm seeing to myself. I've already filled out the form for maternity leave for you. Also a medical leave of absence for Horatio. I'm assuming that he'll be out for several weeks."  
  
"At a minimum," said Alexx. "He'll probably be in the hospital for weeks, and they haven't even dealt with his broken leg yet."  
  
"How is he?"  
  
"Still critical but gaining," said Calleigh. "The doctor finally admitted this morning that he thought he'd recover."  
  
"Excellent. He's irreplaceable to all of us."  
  
"What's happening with CSI?" Calleigh wondered.  
  
"Horatio had already arranged for help with ballistics while you were on maternity leave. We just asked that person to start immediately. I've already been in communication with the CSI in Fort Lauderdale. Their people are going to help us out where they can, and their department head is going to be splitting his time between his office and Miami, to keep up with the administrative paperwork. He's a friend of Horatio's. He was glad to help, even though it will mean long hours for him. Can we even make a guess at this point how long Horatio will be out?"  
  
"No." Alexx answered. "It depends on how long it takes to beat the infection, and there are too many variables there. He'll be on crutches for six weeks at least after that, but I doubt he'll be strong enough to work yet, anyway. A systemic infection like that leaves you weak quite a while even after it's gone. When he can work will depend on his general condition. At the moment, he's got a long way to go."  
  
"Well, keep me informed." The captain stared out the window and fiddled with his keys.  
  
"Sir, was there something else?" Calleigh asked.  
  
"Um, yes. There's also the official investigation into the death of Stewart Otis."  
  
"WHAT?" Calleigh sat straight up in the bed. Rosalind whimpered, and Alexx rocked her soothingly.  
  
"It's department procedure. You know that, Calleigh. Any time an officer kills someone, we have to investigate. I'm trying to make this as easy as I can."  
  
Calleigh settled back a bit, but her eyes were still flashing. "Even when the alleged person he killed had held us captive for six days, almost killed Horatio, and was threatening to take our daughter?"  
  
"Calleigh, he doesn't have to do this himself," Alexx reminded her. "You could be talking to IAB. But it is required. You know the rules."  
  
"The CSIs have processed the warehouse, and it's absolutely consistent with you being held captive there, just like you said. But I have to document everything for the record. As far as I'm concerned, this is just a formality, but I do need a statement from you and Horatio."  
  
"Not Horatio," Calleigh insisted. "He doesn't even remember it, and you'd just upset him by trying to make him think about it." She had already had to tell Horatio three times that he'd had no choice but to kill Otis, and he seemed to believe her, although he then wanted the assurance repeated later. She wasn't about to let him face an inquisition.  
  
"He doesn't remember it?"  
  
Alexx took over with smooth professionalism. "The infection that last day had progressed to the extent that it was affecting his mind. There is extensive medical documentation on the condition, and his response there is absolutely consistent. You could get a statement of that fact from his doctor. But I agree, and I think his doctor would, too. Horatio is still in critical condition. Questioning him on something he doesn't remember would just upset him, and he shouldn't be upset at the moment."  
  
The captain hesitated. "I'll talk to his doctor. We've got to have something for the record."  
  
"Do that," said Calleigh. She couldn't imagine the doctor agreeing to them questioning Horatio. And if he did, she'd set up a defense post herself, outside the ICU so that Horatio wouldn't realize it. "I remember everything perfectly well. I'll give you a statement."  
  
"Regulations require statements from all involved officers." He looked guilty as he quoted one of the IAB's favorite lines. The captain really was hating this, she suddenly realized. And he was trying to run interference for them, which was a good thing. If the IAB had come down to the hospital to harass Horatio, they would have had to be admitted after Calleigh was through with them. "I'll talk to his doctor," the captain promised, "and get more information. We'll see if we can get around it and still satisfy IAB. If his condition was affecting his mind that much, he might not have even known what he was doing at the time."  
  
"He knew what he was doing; he just doesn't remember it," Calleigh insisted. Horatio attacking Otis was one of the most heroic actions she had ever seen, and she refused to diminish it. She was certain he had known what he was doing. "I'll give you a statement, but you're talking to Horatio over my dead body."  
  
The captain smiled suddenly. "Well, let's get what we can, then." He took a mini tape recorder out of his pocket and switched it on. "Okay, Mrs. Caine, tell me everything you can remember."  
  
Calleigh ran through the entire week, taking Rosalind again and clutching her tightly to convince herself that it was over. Alexx, who hadn't pressed her friend for all the details, was hearing the full version for the first time, too, and her admiration for both of her coworkers swelled even more. Calleigh finished, and the captain turned the recorder off and sat there in silence for a moment.  
  
"I'll do my best, Calleigh, to get this investigation closed quickly. I don't see any question of it being a necessity to kill him, but we do have to follow procedure. I'm sorry I had to bother you."  
  
"I know," she said. "But you aren't questioning Horatio about this."  
  
"Could you give me his doctor's name, so I can get a statement from him substantiating the memory loss?" Calleigh gave it to him, and he stood up. "Calleigh, all I can say is, I'm honored to know both of you." He reached out and shook her hand, then left.  
  
Calleigh looked down at Rosalind. Her hands, holding her daughter, were steady, but her soul was trembling at reliving all of that awful week, realizing again how close she had come to losing both of them. Alexx stood up and came closer to the bedside, pulling her friend's head over against her. "It's over now, Calleigh."  
  
"I know," she said through the tears. Alexx held her, stroking her hair, until the sobs had stopped. Calleigh finally gave her a wavering smile. "Rosalind's still looking at us. Wonder what she's thinking?"  
  
"Soon enough, you'll know." Alexx stepped away from the bed. "I'm going down to see Horatio for a minute, and then I've got to get to work. I'll come back for you this afternoon, though."  
  
"Thanks, Alexx."  
  
"No, thank you."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For the privilege of being your friend." The ME gave her a dazzling smile, stroked Rosalind's cheek lightly, and then left.  
  
***  
  
Calleigh entered Horatio's room, a private room now, and stood there for a minute looking at him. He was asleep. His spirit was regaining health faster than his body, but in spite of his protests how close to normal he now was, the amount of time he still spent asleep told her otherwise. Of course, he was still on painkillers, more than he wanted to be on, but without them, his body would not be able to get the rest he needed to win this battle. The doctors had assured them that as soon as they could get his leg set with some fixation on the fracture, the pain would decrease, but they had to beat the infection first.  
  
She reached out and placed Rosalind on his chest, then bent over to kiss him on the forehead, trying to guess his temperature. He was off all the monitors by this point, with only a single IV left attached. Just a bit warm, she thought. He stirred slightly and smiled, and his hands came out to grasp Rosalind, but the eyes didn't open.  
  
"Don't you want to see us?" she teased after a minute.  
  
"I was hoping if you thought I wasn't totally awake, you'd do that again."  
  
She kissed him again, starting on the forehead but progressing down to his lips. "Awake yet?"  
  
"Getting there." He opened his eyes, which were his eyes once again, and smiled at her. "Or if I'm dreaming, I don't want to be awake."  
  
She smiled back at him. "Not a dream, I promise. What was your fever this morning?"  
  
"99.2. I was trying to convince the orthopedist that was close enough, but he didn't buy it." The doctor had refused to proceed with the operation on Horatio's leg until he had no fever at all. "Maybe in a day or two."  
  
"No point in rushing it. You know it won't heal up until the infection is all gone."  
  
"He did do x-rays this morning again. The fracture is still wide open, he said, but it looks a lot better. There's hardly any sign left of osteomyelitis. He was optimistic. Also, he said he'd remove the screws from that ankle as long as he's working on the leg. That old fracture doesn't need them anymore. But he won't be doing it today." He gave a sigh, and his eyes drifted toward the window, where his city was bustling on without him.  
  
"I think you just want to get out of here," she commiserated. "Remember, though, you've still got a week, even after they fix the leg. Rushing the operation won't change that." The doctors had insisted on keeping him on IV antibiotics for a full week after his temperature was normal.  
  
"I haven't forgotten," he groaned. "Counting ceiling tiles is getting old, though. How are you two doing?"  
  
"Great. Here, I've got a treat for you." She picked up the large Starbucks Styrofoam cup she had set down on the table by his bed. His appetite was still almost nonexistent. The doctors thought it was a side effect of all the antibiotics, but they weren't about to decrease them yet. Meanwhile, he had dropped from lean to definitely thin, and Calleigh had decided to start a campaign to see how many calories she could stuff him with. "Drink that while I talk."  
  
"Real non hospital coffee?" Horatio took the cup and sniffed in appreciation.  
  
"Even better. It's your favorite flavor of cappuccino." He took a swallow, his free hand still on Rosalind. "We're doing fine, Horatio. I'm learning to sleep in short catnaps here and there. She's amazingly scheduled, though. She wants feeding several times a night, but you can anticipate when. Very regulated. I wonder where she gets that from." She stroked his hair fondly.  
  
"Can't imagine," he said. "You sure you're getting enough rest yourself?"  
  
"Yes. She likes to watch everything, too. She spends a lot of time just studying the world. Doesn't cry a lot, unless she's hungry or needs changing." Rosalind was studying her father just now, and he smiled back at her. "Alexx says she's remarkably easy. She is strong willed, though. When she wants something, she wants it now. I do miss you. Even when I have her with me, she can't fill up your half of the bed."  
  
"I'll be out of here as soon as I can," he replied. "I don't think much of this bed, either. I'll reach for you and bang into these blasted rails. I can't wait to be home sleeping in ours again. You'll have some help with things then, too." His eyes wandered past Rosalind to the cage over his leg. "I'm not sure how much help I'll be at first, though. More likely to just be in your way."  
  
She kissed him. "Horatio, you could never be in my way. Finish your drink." He picked it back up obediently. "The insurance paid on my car, and I picked up the new one first thing this morning. I took your suggestion on a Jeep."  
  
He nodded. "Not as good as a Hummer, but what is? You're still trading up."  
  
"I needed to trade up," she said, looking directly at him. "My car was lagging behind the rest of my life. You know, Horatio, even with everything that's happened to us the last two years since we got together, I like this version of things a lot better."  
  
"Immeasurable improvement," he agreed, looking right back at her with dizzying approval. His hypnotic eyes were getting more of their sparkle back every day. She bent over and kissed him again.  
  
"What day is it, Cal?" he asked once they finally parted.  
  
"March 18th," she answered.  
  
"I've got to get out of here by the 3rd."  
  
She hadn't thought of that. "You'd better hurry up and get well, then." The words were jesting, but there was nothing casual about the squeeze of support she gave his arm. "We'll deal with it, Horatio." She smiled at her daughter. "Rosalind was born on February 27th, so she's two and a half weeks old."  
  
"The day before your birthday," he said. "Sorry I didn't give you anything on your birthday, Cal. Things didn't quite work out like I'd planned."  
  
She kissed him. "Don't worry about it. I was knocked out myself all day that day, so I didn't notice. Wasn't how I'd planned to spend it, either. Besides, you did get me something. You gave me Rosalind." Her hand joined his on their daughter. "I've never had a better gift in my life." And even better than having Rosalind was having both of them. No, Calleigh had no complaints about her gifts at the moment.  
  
"She's the only thing I really remember from that last day," he said after taking another swallow. "I'm glad I remember her birth, though. It's an interesting effect, really. The whole episode has this golden haze around it. Makes you both look like angels."  
  
Calleigh shuddered. "If I'd had any idea how sick you were that last day, I would have . . ."  
  
"You would have been twice as scared and just as unable to do more about it." He moved his free hand from Rosalind to her arm. "You were wonderful, Calleigh, from everything I hear. I just wish I remembered the end of it, when you got us out."  
  
"You're the one who got us out. You were absolutely magnificent." She squeezed his arm in return. He had finally stopped asking for reassurance that he had had to kill Otis. At Alexx's suggestion, Calleigh had told him Otis' last words, about Rosalind being his daughter. "I've never been so glad to see the team in my life, though. They'd been working nonstop, of course, but they only got the information on the warehouse that afternoon."  
  
"How's Aaron?" He didn't remember Aaron, but that didn't stop him from caring about him.  
  
"Doing a lot better. He's with his grandmother, and they've got him seeing a child psychologist. He's lost his mother, of course, but Otis actually hadn't done too much with him yet. He needed him in good shape to make the tape recordings that were maintaining his alibi at the prison." She stroked his cheek again. "Everybody else came out of it in better shape than you did."  
  
"We beat him, though. He'll never hurt anyone again this time."  
  
"Right." She had a hidden smile for that we, though. She had no doubt who had beaten Otis, but she knew that he would never see it that way, and she suddenly loved him more, if possible. That was his nature, as much stronger than Otis as light is than darkness. "Finish that off, Horatio," she prompted. He took the last few swallows of cappuccino and handed her the empty cup, and she threw it away. "Everything is fine, now. And Rosalind was worth all of it."  
  
"Yes," he agreed. "She's worth everything." He touched his daughter lovingly, and she looked back at him. "I'll be home soon, Cal, for both of you."  
  
"Not soon enough." A wicked smile suddenly crossed Calleigh's face. Reassured enough to enjoy revenge now, she threw his own words from the doctor's office that fateful day back at him. "Don't hurry yourself, but just remember, Horatio, you're keeping me waiting."  
  
*** ***  
  
Next on CSI:Miami – Fearful Symmetry: "Yet to Be." Horatio decides that he's getting old. Can Calleigh and Rosalind help him regain his perspective? 


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